


Irreplaceable

by JarofJoy



Category: Stargate Universe
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-20 15:52:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 96,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6015109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JarofJoy/pseuds/JarofJoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The <i>Destiny</i> crew is finally Earth-bound, but a dying member won't make it home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sounds never seemed to echo the same in the day as they did at night. Even in the artificial day he generated with the ship's lighting, his footsteps never haunted him the way they did now, as he lurked down a darkened corridor, fearing the noise would wake the entire ship. There were no other feet to add to the noise, no voices to muffle it. It was only him and his silent shadow, creeping toward the infirmary where his target lay in ignorance.

He never meant for this to happen. Any of it. It was his desperation, his unyielding refusal to let go of the one final thing in his life which held any meaning, that had stranded them here. His selfishness (his desire to protect the crew?). His fear (his courage?). He hardly knew anymore. What did it all say of him? He had been called many things in his life. One thing in particular stuck with him, a word he despised, a description he never thought he would be associated with.

_Coward._

He had never gotten on too well with David Telford, but even that was a low blow. Did the man truly think that about him? Or was he just trying to throw off the Lucian Alliance? Would a coward walk through a wormhole with absolutely no knowledge of what was on the other side? Would a coward go face to face - and sometimes head to head - every day with people he knew hated his guts? Would a coward stay behind on a dying ship to ensure the rest of the crew made it off safely?

Or was it a coward who had caused it all to start with? And what he was doing now…how would they perceive this?

He wasn't a quitter. He didn't give up on anything. He was committed to this mission with all his heart and soul. Since they'd…arrived, every single day out here had brought with it a dozen ways to die, and up to now they had always managed to find a way out. There had been losses, of course, and he regretted each one, but the critical members of the crew had endured the impossible odds, eluding death and outsmarting a hundred thousand things that by all accounts should have exterminated them inside a week. If that wasn't proof that they were supposed to be here, he didn't know what was. Everyone kept saying that they were the wrong people, they didn't belong, it's not up to them to finish it. And Nick had tried so hard for so long to persuade them that they were wrong. They _were_ the right people. They _did_ belong. They were there for a _reason._

And for one incredible, glorious moment, he thought they believed him. When his future self showed up and told of the extraordinary few who had agreed to remain on the ship, Nick had felt a surge of relief and pride. They had united by his side and declared with one voice that there was nothing more important in that moment than finding out what the Ancients had wanted to learn so badly that they would send this magnificent ship out into the farthest reaches of the universe, knowing they'd never return. It was the apical moment of his life, and it was a serious test of his fortitude to have to stand there in the infirmary and listen to the tale without melting down to a puddle of honor and joy. The mission would live on. They _understood._

And it was mind-blowing how quickly they'd turned on him. Everything changed a few months ago when he found another Icarus planet, and that very same hour he lost them all. He'd done everything short of falling to his knees and begging, because he refused to beg, to urge these people to stay. They had to, because he had to, and he couldn't without them. He needed them. They were a team, he'd told them, but it was no use. They'd given up on the mission. They'd given up on _him_. He was relying on them to keep him on the ship the same way they had relied on him to get them off of it. The tables turned so fast it gave him vertigo, leaving him off-balance, staggering to regain lost ground. It was hard - _impossible_ \- being the only one who cared enough about something to want to see it go on, and he had no resources. He had no support. He was alone, completely alone, deserted by every person he thought he could rely on, and everyone on the entire ship seemed too busy dreaming of Earth even to notice. Maybe they had been right all along. They were the wrong people. The disappointment was devastating.

_Admit it, Rush. After everything that's happened, you're afraid they're not going to let you come back._

Telford was wrong. He was not afraid, he was _convinced._ He knew without a doubt that once he got one foot off of the ship he would never, ever be allowed back on. They'd find someone else, and they'd do it with glee. He didn't actually know when he became replaceable. He guessed it was right around the time he dialed the ninth chevron instead of Earth, or maybe even before that, the moment Eli solved the Dakara weapons puzzle. Whenever it was, there was something he knew for sure: the moment he became replaceable was the moment he became irrelevant. And relevancy is one of the most basic human hungers. Everyone wants to know that they _matter._ He'd learned long ago that if you can't be wanted, be needed. And now, he was neither.

It wasn't his decision to let go of the mission. The situation had been forced onto him, one of many things lately that he couldn't control, and he had no option but to release his grip on the very last thing that could offer him any sort of decent future. How interesting, he thought to himself, sneaking down the corridor, to find himself now in another position where his future could be snatched away; only this time, the decision was his to make. One last choice. One last chance to make something of this short existence, to have something to show for his time here, to make a tangible difference, and maybe be able to maintain control over at least that much. He wasn't a quitter, but he felt like a failure. He was going to change that right now while he still had something to offer.

Lieutenant Johansen always kept the infirmary door open at night, so he was not surprised to see it open now as he crept closer. He kept near to the wall and leaned around the edge to peer inside. There she was, asleep, as he'd hoped, at her work desk. This would be easy.

In practice.

He soft-stepped into the room and went silently to her side. Very, very gently, he checked both of her wrists, then the crook of both elbows. Finding nothing, he slid his fingers under her jaw, behind her ear, through her hair, and across to the other side. _There._ Just behind her right earlobe was a bulge, firm and hot to the touch; he brushed her hair aside and leaned in for a better look.

A long breath escaped him. The knot was ugly, swollen, and fiery red, with dark streaks webbing out from the edges. _I knew it._ With his other hand he touched an identical lump on the back of his neck.

That's it, then.

He turned from the lieutenant and went to her supply shelf, scanning it with his eyes first, then running his hands over everything in search. If he was going to do this, he had to do it fast, courage or no.

He wondered as he worked. He wondered how many would attend the funeral. He wondered what they would say. He wondered where the casket would rest. Not on Earth, probably. Decomposition would set in too fast to wait that long. That actually made him pause and glance again at Johansen. No one would ever be able to visit. No one could lay flowers on the grave. She didn't deserve that.

He licked his lips and shook his head, resuming his search. Stitching thread, bandages, plastic tubes, oxygen masks. None of which he needed. He crouched down to a lower shelf and picked through the containers there. Another minute and he found it - a small bottle of some numbing agent. He screwed off the cap, squeezed some generous drops onto a cotton swab, and crept back to Johansen's side. She was hunched over in her black sleeveless top, her hands pillowing her head, and both arms were in easy reach. Gently, he swiped the analgesic over a patch of her left arm. She was right-handed; this would affect her the least. He waited a very long, silent, fidgety minute, then drew a syringe out of his vest pocket and popped of the cap. After disinfecting the skin, he held her shoulder in his left hand, and with his right, he slid the needle through her flesh and slowly pressed the plunger down. She stirred again, but he was committed now, and he made himself stay until it was gone, praying she would not wake completely. When it was over, a surge of nausea hit his stomach like a fist. Shaking now, he capped the syringe, shoved it back into his pocket, and fought a rolling in his stomach even as gooseflesh rose all over his body.

It was done.

He was going to die.

He wasn't a quitter. So why did it feel like he was giving up?


	2. Chapter 2

 

The first sign that something was wrong came in the shape of a simple statement: "Work can wait." And looking back on it, Everett realized he probably should have paid more attention to it at the time. He noticed that it was strange, but Rush himself was strange, and he never did learn quite how to understand him, so while things may have come as a surprise nothing Rush said or did ever truly shocked him. Disturbed him, yes. Pissed him off, certainly. But never shocked him. So when Rush took one look at the planet and said he would rather go down there than stay and fix the broken console, Everett just stared at him for a moment before shrugging his permission. Rush had wasted no more words, going at once to his quarters for a change of clothes, then reappearing in the gate room and waiting impatiently for the rest of the away team. Eli had been restless and irritable lately, and he'd begged to be allowed to go also. Everett agreed partly because the kid was getting on everybody's nerves and a change of scenery would do him some good.

So they went. And there they were now, standing in the wind, on some grassy knoll overlooking an enormous silver lake. The overcast sky was threatening rain, but for now it was just the breeze.

"Seventeen hours, people," Everett announced loudly. "Whatever you're here to do, do it fast."

Lieutenants Scott and Johansen made for the lake with Rush in tow to determine if the water was drinkable. Greer and Varro were on perimeter duty, weapons raised, circling the group in a wide ring. Eli disappeared into a nearby tree grove.

Everett sidestepped down the hill, steep as it was, taking in the striking beauty of this world. It looked very much like Earth. But then, most did. This one was something special, though. It was so green, hilly, mildly humid, with sharp mountain peaks stabbing the sky in the distance. The gray sky felt low over their heads, and way out there he could see a rain storm coming their way. He hoped it would rain water, and not acid or something.

At the lake's edge, Scott and T.J. were comparing small, half-filled glass beakers.

"Well?"

"It's water, sir," Matt said happily, which was good because from the top of that hill it looked more like mercury. "We can purify it back on the ship."

Everett nodded. "Take as much as you can." Then he paused and smiled. "Well, enough to last five more weeks, anyway."

Matt grinned. "Yes, sir."

Everett glanced to Rush, who was sitting on his heels on the pebbled beach and looked lost in his own little world. He seemed tired. Everyone was tired. It was eight months after they emerged from their stasis pods that Rush had discovered another Icarus planet, a  _real_  one this time, he swore, and calculated that it would take five additional months to reach it. That was four months ago. The whole ship had been on edge ever since the whispers began again about the possibility of going home, cautious with their fragile enthusiasm, not wanting to speak of it too loudly in case that would shatter this hope into black oblivion.  _Not like we haven't been down that road before._  But this time there was no reversal, no admission of false data. Eli had dedicated an entire day just to the task of making sure this plan was for real. And so far, it seemed to be. This nightmare was almost over. They were all ready to wake up.

He knew Rush was upset. Worse, he understood why. Once the big cheeses in SGC and the IOA heard about the planet, they had given very explicit instructions to the  _Destiny_  crew to return to Earth immediately, if not sooner. Failure to comply would result in "consequences". Rush had fought and fought and fought, seeking anyone who would stand with him and try to wheedle the brass into allowing them to stay, challenging the actual reach of the government's influence, questioning how exactly the consequences were to be enforced across billions of lightyears of space, emphasizing to everyone how far they'd come, appealing to them not to let it all be in vain, reminding them that at one time they had been prepared to stay no matter what.

Doesn't matter, he'd been told. Those people that had chosen to stay may have been us, but they weren't  _us_. Things are different now. We've been out here too long. It's not worth it.

Sorry.

Everett suspected his own about-face had hurt the most. Immediately after the order was given to return, Rush had come to him looking for an ally. He'd asked him to stand at his side, just as he had the first time, to make the rest of the crew and SGC understand that  _they belong here_. But as much as he hated to admit it, everyone else was right. Things had changed too much, they'd learned too much, priorities had shifted. Most of their reasons were personal, yes, a point Rush had made many times, but it did not make them invalid. Everett did fight, but it was a lukewarm attempt, and there was no way to hide that from the critical eyes of his friend. If he could still call him that. In the end the order stood, and it was three weeks before Rush started speaking to him again.

He prayed every day that Rush would change too, and that returning to Earth wouldn't be as bad as he feared it would. He would find meaning there too, Everett was sure of it, especially after everything he'd learned out here. His knowledge and skills would be in high demand. He might even get the opportunity to contribute to the growth of a whole new generation of SG science teams. The possibilities were astounding! It wasn't the end of the world.

He climbed back up the hill, listening to his lieutenants chitter about being back home again, drinking Earth water, eating Earth food, sleeping in real beds.  _Five more weeks,_  he told himself, cresting the hill.

Eli was still in the trees. Everett went to find him, ducking thick leaves and branches. Eli was standing with his back to him, staring up at the sky with his hands in front of him where Everett couldn't see. "Hey, Eli."

Eli spun around and stood rigid with his hands behind his back now. "Colonel," he greeted him cheerily. He had a grin on his face, like a little kid caught doing something he shouldn't. There was something wet and shiny on his chin.

Everett frowned. "What are you eating?"

Eli cleared his throat. "It's like an apple, I think," he said, producing some fruit from behind his back. It looked like an apple, except it was blue. The flesh was pure white.

"Eli!"

"I know, I know," Eli said.

"Why do you have to eat everything you encounter?"

Eli shrugged innocently. "I saw some birds eating this, so I figured it must be all right."

"Birds eat all kinds of things," Everett pointed out. This kid was going to poison himself someday. "Next time wait until we perform an edibility test, will you?"

Eli nodded, then took a hearty bite from the fruit. Everett sighed and turned back the way he came. They hadn't gated off the ship in three weeks, and it felt so, so good to get out and breathe some fresh air for a change, but even as he stood here enjoying this particularly delightful world, he found himself wrestling against a lurch in his gut that told him to stop wasting time and just get these people home. Being within reach was almost harder than being without hope of ever returning.

He forced himself to be patient for the next several hours while the team made several trips back and forth to the ship with water. Everett hoped they could bring enough that they wouldn't need to stop anymore from here until the planet. When Eli didn't shrivel up and die after a few hours, he also had several people pick as much fruit as they could carry.  _Soon_ , he told himself,  _you can eat a real apple._  Greer even killed something that looked like a bison.  _Alien jerky, anyone?_

When the seventeen hours were finally up, he made the order to return to the gate. Everyone made their way there, except Rush.

Of course.

Everett went down the hill again and found the scientist sitting at the water's edge, in the very same spot he had left him this morning. Rush's ability to remain inert in the same position for hours and hours never failed to baffle him, and he came up to his side. His hair was short again, like it had been when they'd first come to the ship, and the rain was plastering it to his head and face. Everett had the sudden unwelcome memory of the way Rush had looked after being freed from the alien water tank, and he recognized that Rush looked very much that same way now. A little scared, a little lost. No wetsuit or mind probe device this time, but it was as if that Rush had been cut out of the past and grafted here into the now.

"Hey," he said. "Something wrong?"

Rush didn't look at him. He kept his eyes forward, gazing out to the horizon, seemingly oblivious to the rain. "No, I'm fine."

His knee-jerk response. Everett shook his head. "All right. Time's up, let's go."

"Just give me a minute."

Everett thought this planet must've had a very slow rotation, or whatever celestial factors determine such things. It was still as bright as it had been when they landed, and the only sign that time had actually passed was the heaviness in his eyes. He wanted to go to bed, and he was not prepared to let Rush keep him from it. "You've had seventeen  _hours_ ," he said. Normally Rush was the antsy one herding everyone toward the gate. He had practically demanded to be allowed to come here, and all he wanted to do was sit? He hadn't even helped gather food or water. If was going to sit around and be useless, he could do that on the ship. "Do you know how many minutes that is?"

"One thousand and twenty," Rush said quietly.

Everett rolled his eyes. "Let's move."

Rush sighed, and very faint whoosh of breath. Everett barely heard it over the rain. "This planet reminds me of home," Rush said, brushing off his combat pants.

"Earth?"

"Scotland. The Highlands. Beautiful country. I forgot how much I missed it."

Ah. Homesickness. Everett clapped him on the shoulder as they got moving. "Well, just think about this: In just over a month, you'll be back there again."

He was rewarded with such a lack of reaction that it made him frown. Rush didn't disagree, but he didn't agree, either. He ignored the comment entirely.

Well, fine. If he wanted to be grouchy about it, he could be grouchy. Everett wasn't going to let it foul his mood. The man was going to have to start accepting the inevitable sooner or later. They reached the gate much slower than he would have liked since Rush kept stopping to stare at the mountains, or look up the sky, or study the grass, or touch the rain, or smell the air, or listen to the wind, or do whatever in the world he was doing. Everett had to fidget to keep himself from dragging him the rest of the way. When they finally got there Eli dialed, and the lieutenants went through first with their haul. Eli was next, then Greer and Varro. When it was Rush's turn, he moved very slowly, taking everything in, one last look, one last breath. Everett almost pushed him through, and the wormhole closed.

T.J. and Scott were already unloading the kino sled. He went to them, pulling barrels of water off and lining them up on the floor. T.J. was moving strangely, struggling a little with the barrels and favoring her left arm.

"You all right?"

She straightened and nodded, working the joint in circles. "Shoulder's sore. I must have pulled a muscle or something."

His gut fluttered with worry. He knew she was carrying ALS, and every ache or pain she reported brought a fresh ripple of fear. He moved a little closer. "You sure?"

"Yeah. I must have overdone it somehow."

"How long has it been hurting?"

She shook her head. "Just a couple of days. I fell asleep in the infirmary again, maybe I just slept on it wrong."

He felt his forehead scrunch. "You should sleep in your quarters like everyone else."

She smiled. "I wish. There's a lot to do to prepare for getting home." Everett could tell she was trying for cheerful, but something in her voice sat wrong. He could tell when she was forcing a smile. He frowned.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

She nodded gently. "I'll be fine, don't worry. Just gotta be careful with it for awhile."

She was still talking about her arm. He wasn't. "No, I mean…you seem…" He gestured vaguely with his hand, unable to pick the word. She raised an eyebrow. He could see Scott watching them with his eyes rolling, probably annoyed that he was now unloading all this water by himself. "I don't know. Just not as happy as you should be, I guess."

Her hesitation before smiling was only there for a fleeting moment, but he caught it all the same. "I am happy," she assured him. Then she sighed. "Five more weeks."

He tried to be comforted. He gave her a fake smile of his own and reached for another barrel. A change in his peripheral vision made him turn to see Rush leaving the gate room to disappear to somewhere within the guts of the ship, his head low and his arms folded across himself.

He really should have been paying attention.

Not that it would have helped.

Once the water was off the sled and on its way to be purified, Everett left the gate room for the communications lab. Homeworld Command had insisted on weekly check-ins ever since they learned that they were coming home, but he hadn't used the stones in almost four weeks. Someone would be panicky waiting for a status report.

He came through to the body of someone he didn't know. David Telford was there waiting for him on the other side.

"David," Everett greeted him, standing from the chair.

"Everett!" Telford said, half with joy, half with unmitigated exasperation. He took his friend in his arms, slapping him on the shoulder before releasing. "Do you have any idea how long we've been waiting for a contact? There are some pretty pissed off people in here."

"I know, and I'm sorry. We had some problems and today we had to make a stop for water and food."

Telford shook his head, still smiling. "Better late than never, huh? Anyway, I'll let General O'Neill know you're here." He went for the door.

"Uh," Everett said, and Telford paused. "Actually, I was hoping just to drop in and let you all know we're still alive. If I don't get back soon, Mister, um…" - he looked down at the name on his fatigues - "…Blackstone is going to spontaneously pass out, and I'd rather it happen in my quarters."

Telford hesitated. "Seriously? You came just to tell me that?"

"Well, yeah."

Telford sighed. "Fair enough. But next time make sure you have enough time to talk, huh?"

"Will do. I should get going."

"All right. But hey, listen, the bigwigs want me to come aboard and assess the situation as soon as possible."

He shrugged. "Okay."

"And they said that I should switch with Rush."

Everett paused. "Tomorrow should be fine," he said warily. What they would possibly want Rush for, he couldn't guess.

"All right. First thing in the morning."

Everett nodded. "First thing."

Back in his own body, Everett forced himself to make one last stop before he went to bed. He found Brody, Rush, and Eli on the bridge, which wasn't all that surprising since it was technically four in the afternoon, except that two of them had spent the entire night on the planet collecting food supplies. Brody was sitting at his console, with Eli stretching and yawning at his side. Rush was in the command chair.

"Don't you people ever sleep?" Everett asked as he walked in.

Eli laughed. "Our fearless leader insists on getting something done," he said, nodding his head to the command chair. He went largely ignored. Everett turned to the scientist, who did not acknowledge him. 

"Don't you think your people deserve a little rest?"

"I didn't ask them to go to the planet," Rush said without looking up from whatever he was doing. "That was their choice. They're on the clock now, and will be until their shift is over."

Everett rolled his eyes. "Guys, go to bed." To Rush, he said, "They need you to switch out with Telford tomorrow first thing."

That earned him a narrowed eye and a confused scowl, but Rush simply nodded and got back to work.

Everett sluggishly made his way to his quarters. He didn't remember arriving at his room. He didn't remember removing his shoes, lying on the bed, or turning off his lamp. All of a sudden he was waking up in the morning, feeling quite a bit better, thank you, and he checked his watch and realized he had slept for fifteen straight hours. He knew he should get up, but he was  _so comfortable…_

Then there was a knock on his door.

"Come in," he called before he could stop himself, and he pushed himself up and tried to make himself presentable before the door opened. All concern over his appearance evaporated the moment Eli walked in looking wrecked. Everett almost asked if the fruit was poisonous after all, but the way Eli nervously wrung his hands effectively strangled him.

"Colonel," said the kid anxiously, seemingly untroubled by Everett's bedhead. He faltered for a moment, then turned around and palmed the door control, giving them some privacy. He turned again to face Everett and said quietly, "I think something is wrong with Rush…"


	3. Chapter 3

Eli had been paying attention. He had been watching Rush in the mornings, when he began to arrive on the bridge later and later. He had been watching him in the evenings, when he'd leave earlier than he used to. He had been watching him in the Mess, staring blankly at his notebook. He had been watching him on the observation deck, literally staring out into space and seeming to inwardly shut down every night. He was watching that afternoon after they got back from the planet, not long after Colonel Young had left them with an order to go to bed, when something sent alarm bells ringing in his head that wouldn't shut up for the rest of the night.

Rush was off by eight. It wasn't a big number, which is what made it so concerning. It wasn't a difference of sixty-seven thousand, or anything. Eli could have understood that, although in the present circumstance it would be impossible, but even if that were the case then Rush certainly also would have noticed the error. But he didn't. He had calculated that they had collected thirty-one days' worth of water, but actually they only had twenty-three. It wasn't an error in gross weight. It wasn't a misestimation of ration size or a miscalculation of the needs of hydroponics. It was a simple adding mistake, the kind Rush never made. He had added nine to fourteen and somehow got thirty-one. Eli did not know what the numbers nine and fourteen even represented. When Brody asked Rush about it, he had no answer. He just stared at him blankly until the engineer let it go and walked away.

"Are you all right?" Eli had asked Rush, coming up to his side.

Rush didn't look up from his notebook. "I'm fine. Why?"

Eli shrugged. "Just because of what happened just now."

"It was a mistake, nothing more."

Eli frowned. "Yeah, for a third grader, maybe. Not for a university professor with a Ph.D."

Rush twisted his head to look at him. "Is there a problem here, Eli?" he demanded.

Eli raised his hands in defeat. "Just making sure you're okay. You seem a little weird."

And that's when it got really weird. Rush tossed his notebook down onto his console and said, "No, I'm actually not okay, because these equations are different."

Eli wasn't sure if he should retreat or come closer, so he stayed where he was. "What equations?"

"The one I asked you and Chloe to double check for me. You both came up with different solutions."

"Let me see." Eli looked down at the pages, scanning his eyes over the numbers and letters and symbols, comparing one to the other. At the end he frowned. "What are you talking about? They're exactly the same."

"Look at them!"

"I  _am_  looking at them! They're exactly the same!"

Rush jabbed his finger against one of the numbers. "Look here. What do you see?"

"A four," Eli said flatly.

With his other hand, Rush pointed to the same problem on the other page. "And here?"

" _Also_  a four," Eli replied.

Rush paused. He stared at the fours, back and forth, as if he could not comprehend what he was seeing. "Why do they look so different?" he asked softly.

Rush wasn't the type to make jokes, or play stupid, or waste time. Eli could feel his annoyance slowly slipping into something more like worry. He looked helplessly to Brody, who watched silently. "Because they're in different handwriting," he said carefully. "I wrote this one, Chloe wrote that one. That's all."

Rush stared at the problem and didn't answer. He kept his head low, either thinking or embarrassed or tired or something else. "Well," he said after a long pause, clearing his throat and collecting the papers once again, "glad we got that sorted out."

Eli decided he really was worried now. "Are you sure you're all right? When is the last time you ate?"

Rush rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes. "About an hour ago."

"Well…" Eli shrugged. "Maybe you're hungry again."

"I'm not."

"Then you're probably tired," Eli said. "Go get some sleep."

With a sigh Rush leaned back against the chair. "I don't think that's the problem, Eli."

"What  _is_  the problem?"

Rush pulled himself to his feet. "I need a break. Can you handle it here for a bit?"

Eli could, of course, but Rush was gone before he could even answer. He looked to Brody again, who was still watching him with very wide, very concerned eyes.

Not the same eyes the colonel was giving him now, as he related the story to him. At the end of it, he shrugged.

"It's so unlike him," he said. "Don't you think it's weird?"

Colonel Young sighed. "It is unusual for him to make such a simple mistake, but he had been up all day and night. You're probably right about him just being tired."

Eli felt a little of the fear lift. "You think so? Because I tell you, I was up all night worrying about it."

Young smiled a little. "You were probably so tired that you couldn't focus on  _not_  thinking about it."

Eli considered that. "Huh."

"Did he come back after he left?"

"No. I didn't see him again before I hit the hay around 5:00. Err…1700."

Young smiled again. "Five is fine."

Eli felt himself smile. "Anyway, I talked to T.J., and she said she would ask him."

Young just nodded. "Very good. If anything is wrong, she'll find it. But chances are it's just Rush being Rush."

Eli nodded, even though dread still curled like a worm in his belly.

"Where is he now?"

"Uh, the bridge, I think. I haven't actually seen him but Brody told me he was there."

Young sighed. "He was supposed to use the stones."

Oh, right. Eli grimaced. "You might want to remind him."

Young reached for his radio on the table beside his bed. "Rush, this is Young, what are you doing?"

Eli was not surprised when he received no answer.

The colonel didn't try again. He just looked to Eli, then at the door. "I'd like to get dressed, if you don't mind."

"Oh! Right."

—

"Something is wrong," was what Eli had told Tamara in the Mess that morning. "Seriously. It was so weird."

She had shrugged and stirred her rations. One hand was propping her up on the table, the other making abstract art in her bowl. "Maybe he's just tired. We're all kind of wound up lately knowing we're going home."

She heard Eli sigh. "This is a different kind of wound up," he said. "If fact, he's  _not_  wound up. I know he's usually high-strung and running around, but he's so…slow lately. You should see him at night. He just sits in the observation deck and stares. But it's like he's not looking at anything. I know he's depressed and all, but I thought he got over that weeks ago."

She shrugged again and pushed her bowl aside. "Well, I can talk to him, but I don't know that it'll do any good."

Eli looked dissatisfied and annoyed. "I guess that'll be good enough," he said curtly, standing and walking away.

Tamara sighed silently. She couldn't fault Eli for his attitude, if she was honest. Medical personnel were supposed to show concern for their patients. Rush had been her patient several times, but even though he was not easy to take care of, she still had an obligation to try.  _Fine_. Next time she saw him, she would ask him.

She stayed there for awhile. Just staring. Not eating, not thinking. She wasn't hungry. At all. Her stomach felt like lead. She sighed, then scoffed.  _Stop it, Tamara. This was your decision and you don't get to feel sorry for yourself_. She picked up her bowl and stood, then froze.  _I didn't mean right now_. Rush was just entering, taking a spot in line behind Brody and Greer at the serving station. He kept his eyes on his notebook and a hand on the back of his neck, kneading the muscles.

She walked her bowl over to the pile of dirty dishes and then went to stand at Rush's side. "Hey there."

He nodded without looking up. "Hello."

"Are you feeling all right?"

"Fine, why?"

She shrugged, trying for casual, but knowing he was hard to fool. "Just checking. You look a little tired."

He turned up his face to her, studied her for a second, then looked down again. "So do you."

 _Yeah_ , she thought. Oh well. No point in prolonging this encounter. "I just mean you look like you don't feel well."

He probably sensed her significative tone, but he didn't react to it. "I'm rather hungry, to be honest," he answered, taking his bowl of rations with a thank-you to Becker. He went to a table, and she followed him. When he didn't send her away, she sat across.

"Besides being hungry," she pressed. "Eli said you had some kind of problem earlier."

He scoffed. "Eli talks a lot," he said. "It wasn't a problem, it was a mistake, and it wasn't a big deal. I would appreciate it if he wouldn't go around telling people every time I miscalculate something."

"Does it happen often?" she joked.

He just stared at his bowl and didn't answer.

Her smile left. "Look, I just want to make sure you're all right. Sleeping okay? How's your appetite?"

He smiled a little. "Fine, and fine. And what about you, Lieutenant? How are you sleeping? Are you getting enough to eat?"

She couldn't tell if he was mocking her or genuinely curious. Worry for her would seem rather outside his normal scope of concern, but sarcasm would be plain  _cruel_. She did not deign to answer. "I just want to make sure everyone is okay," she concluded.

At that he paused. He finally looked up at her and said, "Everyone is fine, with all thanks to you. The crew is going home, and probably no one will know just  _how much_  you gave up for them."

She bit her lip a little bit. Lowering her voice, she said, "We agreed not to talk about it again."

"You brought it up."

She clamped her mouth shut. It was a mercy that Colonel Young walked up at that moment, because she couldn't bear the puncturing stare Rush was giving her. The colonel nodded at her, and she automatically nodded back.

"What are you doing here?" the colonel asked the scientist. "Why is your radio off?"

Rushed reached for the radio on his belt, but it wasn't there. He seemed confused. "Uh, I must have left it in my quarters."

"You were supposed to use the communication stones thirty minutes ago."

Rush looked sincerely startled. "Oh. Right. Sorry, Colonel, it must have slipped my mind. I'll go now."

He got up and went away with the colonel following, leaving her sitting there annoyed.  _Show a little concern and see what it gets you?_  She involuntarily raised a hand to the sore lump under her ear, trying to comfort herself in the knowledge that she wouldn't have to deal with him much longer. She wouldn't have to deal with  _anything_  much longer. It failed to make her feel better. In fact, it just made her feel sick.

She got up and retreated to the safety of her infirmary.

—

"Telford does not like to be kept waiting," Everett informed Rush as they reached the lab.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Rush sat in the chair and placed his stone on the plate, and soon his posture and poise straightened as Telford came through.

"David?" Everett said, just to make sure.

Telford in Rush's body smiled, but his face instantly twisted in something suspiciously like pain. He put one hand on his head and the other over his stomach. "Oh, man, what is  _wrong_  with this guy?"

Everett blinked in surprise. "What do you mean?"

Telford coughed. "I feel like crap."

"You look like crap." He shrugged. "Rush didn't really have a chance to hit the Mess, so maybe you're just hungry. Let's go." He stood, pulling Telford to his feet. They went along, checked all the way by Telford's shuffling, but eventually made it to the mess hall. They sat at a table and accepted their rations from Becker.

"Ugh," said Telford, staring down at the thin, bland whatever-it-was in his bowl. "You're still eating this stuff? No wonder you all look so pale."

"Well, you are what you eat," Everett said with a shrug. He swallowed a mouthful. "We managed to get some meat on board yesterday, but it won't last long. Let me tell you, the first thing I'm going to do when I get back to Earth is order a giant ribeye steak smothered in cheese and onions."

Telford laughed lightly. "Baked potato?"

"Absolutely." His mouth watered just thinking about it.

"Apple pie?" Telford teased.

Everett groaned. "David, please, don't give me a reason to hate this place even more."

Telford swallowed a mouthful of water from his mug. "Tell you what. Once my shift is over tonight, I'll go have one myself in your honor."

Everett snorted, but the smile remained. "That's so helpful, thank you."

Telford chuckled. He stared down into his bowl again, then pushed it to the side. "If he's hungry when he gets back, he can choke this stuff down. No offense to the chef."

Everett shook his head. "I'm sure Becker will be glad to get back to Earth and have real food to work with."

"Got that right," Becker muttered from the cooking station.

Telford smiled. "Just a couple more weeks."

Everett felt a weariness behind his eyes, in his gut, in his face. "Doesn't sound like that much after five years, but you know what? It is. I keep waiting for it to get easier."

"It will." Telford sighed, massaging the back of his neck in a Rush-like fashion. "Then you're going to look back on all that crap you went through and - well, you probably won't laugh, but at least you'll know it's over."

Everett nodded. "It's almost time for an end of the bad days."

Telford shifted, apparently uncomfortable and not used to the hard benches. He cleared his throat. "So, what can I tell Homeworld Command? Any problems, issues?"

"None to speak of. Everyone's getting restless, but that's normal. After a disease broke out recently we've been trying to stay on the ship as much as we can, not only to actually get there faster, but because we don't want to introduce anything  _onto_  the ship that might delay our arrival. Eli ate some fruit yesterday without testing it first, but so far he seems fine. I swear, that kid sometimes…The last thing I want is for someone to get poisoned in the final leg. We managed to head off the illness before it caused any fatalities but it got real close. Our luck is going to run out sooner or later, though."

Telford nodded. "We've been monitoring Wallace's mother. During those three years she didn't hear from him, she deteriorated quite a bit. Since we told her he was fine she has shown some improvement, but…she doesn't look good, Everett."

Everett had people monitoring everything around the clock and so far all was going according to plan. He told Telford as much.

Telford nodded. "She knows he's coming home. I thought she could use the hope."

"Good call. What about the other families?"

Telford smiled. "Lieutenant Johansen's family calls us up every other day to make sure it's still happening. Chloe's mother has practically moved in to the Pentagon while she waits. I talked to Sergeant Riley's parents, but once they learned they would not be receiving his body they decided that they didn't want to be there for the arrival. Can't say I blame them."

Everett shook his head. Of all the people they'd lost, Riley was one of those that hurt the most.

"There are going to be a lot of happy people when you guys get back home, Everett." Telford's smile narrowed a little, and he stroked his brow nervously with a trembling hand. "Of course, there are going to be some pretty unhappy people too. Listen, this is kind of hush-hush, but there's another reason I'm here. They sent me to make sure everything is still on course, but what they really wanted to do was talk to Rush."

Everett nodded. "I'm sure they did. I can't imagine why else they would insist that he switch with you."

Telford looked around, then leaned forward and lowered his voice. "They want to try to work out with him once and for all whether he could have safely dialed Earth from Icarus."

Everett didn't understand right away. "I can't imagine why that would be a secret. It sounds like something they would do."

"They've got Williams working on it."

Everett stared at him. "Seriously?"

Telford shrugged. "He's eager to accomplish something successful, after what happened last time."

"Well, at least we're not at risk of the ship exploding this time around."

Telford was not quite as amused. He sighed. "Anyway, they've been running numbers forever and they think they're close to an answer."

"Why do they need Rush?"

"Because he was the lead scientist for a reason. There's no one else who's qualified to confirm their findings."

Everett laughed. "And they actually trust him?"

Telford made a  _tch_  sound. "Well, no, but it's not like they have a fallback."

"Come on, David, you mean that there is no other mathematician on the entire planet who can verify some numbers?"

Telford rubbed his face. "It's not just the numbers. We need someone with knowledge of Stargate technology, the Ancient language, properties of Naquadria,  _Destiny_ 's power requirements…Rush is the only one who fits the bill."

"What about Carter or McKay?"

"McKay is consulting. Carter doesn't know  _Destiny_."

"What about Jackson?"

"It was Jackson's idea to recruit Rush in the first place."

"So what?"

Telford shrugged and didn't answer.

"What about Wallace?" Everett said. "He succeeded where Rush couldn't. He'd be able to catch something."

Telford averted his eyes. "It's complicated."

Everett frowned. "Complicated how?"

Telford let out a short breath and raised a hand to his head. "Let's just say there's a lot of politics involved."

Everett stared at him. Rush's face was pale, but also unusually flushed, and beads of sweat were forming on his forehead. "David, are you all right?"

Telford pushed up on the table, standing to his feet, with a hand on his stomach. A tremor passed over him. "I really don't feel well," he whispered.

"Well, sit down. Try to eat something."

Telford hitched and clamped a hand over his mouth, and then suddenly he was vomiting, crashing to the floor, his other hand flying up to grip his head as he went down.

"David!" Everett scrambled off his bench and fell beside him. Telford heaved again, his insides flooding out red between his fingers. Everett grabbled for his radio and shouted into it, "T.J., this is Young! Get to the Mess, now!"

If she answered, he didn't hear. He helped Telford lie on the ground and held his burning head, yelling at him to keep him conscious, and definitely not looking at the pool of blood growing around him.


	4. Chapter 4

"I know what you're trying to do!"

He had expected something like this. The moment they sat him down in this windowless room, surrounded by badges and uniforms, he knew exactly how this day was going to go.

To the gasps of his onlookers, Nick snatched the marker away from Doctor Williams. He could feel their eyes boring through him, but he focused on Williams and held the ink end up in his face. "Don't think you can fool me. I see through this little scam. This proves nothing."

His rage had flamed after one look at the board, which was all he needed to find the mistake, though he knew that wasn't what it was. They'd only let him see it if he agreed to their proposal, they'd told him. A trade, only fair. It was a tempting offer, and they  _had_  made the first move. They were giving him a chance. Instead of waylaying him at the start, they were giving him a way out.  _How generous._  They'd told him what they were doing; now he wanted to know how they were doing it. So, he'd agreed _._  And oh, they'd made a show of it, hadn't they, parading in the victims of all his misdeeds, sitting them down in a neat little row, all facing him, waiting for him to give them the thing they wanted most. And a part of him had wanted to. There were some faces he couldn't bear to look at; it was almost enough to make him concede. But this…he hadn't anticipated something so shameless, so obvious, and it was an intolerable insult to his work.

Williams stammered for a moment.  _Not what you were expecting?_  "It proves you could have dialed Earth," he said, emphasizing each word. Nudging. Prompting. Nick would have no part in it.

"No, it proves you are incompetent! Or you think I am!" He reached up and circled the offending formula, then drew a line through it. "You can't divide by  _zero_! Try it again!" He threw the marker back at him. As Williams fumbled, Nick pointed into the crowd at a weasel-faced man in the middle. "Are you to blame for this?" he asked, but Rodney McKay did not answer, only staring gobsmacked, stiff and blank as a concrete wall. "You're all insane if you think I'm going to just stand here and let you take her away from me."

This wasn't how it was supposed to go, he knew they were thinking it. They had an understanding. Now he was surrounded by wide eyes in bloodless faces, and he felt an abysmal sort of satisfaction at having beat them at their own game, even though he knew he had truly, truly lost.

" _Rush_ -" Williams whispered, eyes darting from him to the others.

"No! I'll have none of it! Do better!" He wanted out. Get him back to the ship. This was a joke. He turned his glare back to the white board.

And blacked out.

Then came back.

There were sounds. Voices, probably. Whispered and echoing but familiar. Johansen. Young. He was back on  _Destiny_.

"…back of his neck."

"Progression?"

"Pretty far…fever and internal bleeding…I want to do some more tests to be sure, but Colonel, if it's the same disease…"

"I know. But let's not panic until we're sure of something."

As awareness heightened, he became conscious of an ache somewhere in his body. Maybe his stomach. Maybe his head. He groaned.

"He's up!" shouted a voice that could only belong to Eli.

 _Not quite._ Suddenly there was pressure on his head and a light blazing into his eyes. He pushed it all away and tried to sit up. "What just happened?"

Colonel Young was standing at his side. "We had to cut the connection early. Something went wrong."

His head was pounding, and he felt like he'd been rammed in the stomach by a bat. He tasted metal. "What?"

"You got sick," said Eli, sitting in a chair by his feet. Lieutenant Johansen raised the back of the bed and handed him a cup of water. He realized he was wearing fatigues. He always found it vaguely disturbing whenever he came off the communication stones and discovered that whoever he'd switched with had changed his clothes, but that thought was far from him this time as he focused on Eli's scrunched up face and wide eyes. "Your body threw up all over yourself. Then you blacked out."

That explained a lot. "Well, what did Telford eat?"

"Water," Young said flatly. Nick thought he detected an edge of something in the colonel's voice. Worry? Fear? He couldn't be sure. "But it wasn't water that came back up."

He swung his gaze to Johansen, who hesitated. Possibly to keep from crying. Her eyes looked a bit red. "It was blood," she told him. "And quite a bit of it."

He slowly took that in, not because he didn't already know it, but because now they knew it too. He began to pretend that the material the sheets were made of was thoroughly fascinating.

"You've got a fever," Young went on. "Telford was complaining about feeling sick."

"Colonel Telford complains about a lot of things." But he still put a hand to his forehead.

"Rush."

He exhaled. "Yeah."

"When did you get bitten?" Johansen wanted to know.

That was a loaded question. He felt himself shake a little as he sighed, bringing his eyes back up again. "Am I the only one?"

"Rush-"

"No, please, please. Just answer me. Am I the only one this is still happening to?"

Johansen nodded. "Yes, as far as we know."

He didn't realize how anxious he was until he allowed himself to relax under that consolation. His head was still throbbing, but it no longer pulsed all the way down his neck. "Good. That's good."

"Doctor Rush," Johansen said firmly, "when? And why didn't you say something?"

He leaned against the raised back of the bed and crossed his arms. He didn't want to talk about this, not with them, not right now. He felt cornered. But he'd hid it as long as he could, and he had known all along that eventually they were going to find out. "It was a little over a week ago," he confessed. "I found one of the insects in my quarters."

"I thought we got them all," the colonel said.

Nick shrugged. "We must have missed one. I imagine we probably weren't as careful as we should have been. I managed to kill it, but it was too late by then." He shifted his eyes to Johansen, who had drawn in both of her lips and was biting on them. "And I didn't tell you because there isn't anything you can do. There was no point in causing a disruption when we know what this is and we know we can't fix it."

Eli raised a hand into the air, like a student trying to gain his teacher's attention. Nick looked to him and resisted the instinct to nod at him, the way he used to do for his students at Berkeley. "So, what's going to happen?" Eli asked, a fretful edge on his words. The hopeful, fearful look in his eyes was enough to make Nick avert his. He shrugged.

"It should be obvious, Eli. I'm gonna die."

—

Tamara stood silent.  _Things were going just too well, weren't they?_  She could feel the colonel's eyes on her face. She ignored him, staring instead at Doctor Rush, waiting with held breath for him to take it all back.

But he didn't.

"That is the most unfunny joke anyone has ever made!" Eli shouted, and his shaking voice betrayed his anger.

"It isn't a joke, Eli," said Rush, turning his eyes back to the young man. "I wouldn't joke about something like this."

Eli gaped at him, speechless.

She finally located her voice. "You should have told me."

"What for? There's nothing you can do about it."

"That's not the point!" She wanted to slap him. "This is about more than just you, Rush! This affects every person on this entire ship! You were given the vaccine. Everyone was. If you're sick, if the vaccine failed…"

She allowed herself to panic now, implications and consequences swirling through her head so fast that it made her dizzy. If the vaccine didn't work then that meant that everyone would be sick within a matter of days. They'd have to find an alternate treatment, but who knew if there would be any between here and the planet? If there weren't then they would all be in serious trouble, especially since they had no idea what this organism might be sensitive or resistant to. She looked around the infirmary at the empty beds of those who had become sick at the start. She could still see them, listless in their cots, plagued by weakness, confusion, pain, nausea. She hadn't been able to fully understand exactly how this disease functioned, how it affected the body, which symptoms were primary or secondary, or what risk factors were involved before they began administering the alien venom they believed would be a cure. Without intervention, they all would have died. She knew that. The human body is not equipped to fight off alien parasites, and the degree to which these people deteriorated showed her that it simply would not have gotten better on its own. This was not the flu. And now their cure had failed?  _It worked in the petri dish. Why not the bloodstream?_  Had it worked at all? Had it only mitigated the symptoms, suppressing the effect without affecting the cause? How much time was left? Who had the strongest immune system of them all? Who was most likely to survive to Earth? Who would-

"Lieutenant."

"Not now, Rush," she said. She began rooting through a box of supplies, not even knowing what she was searching for. Was Vanessa sick again? She'd had the first exposure. Was anyone else showing signs? She hadn't noticed. Couldn't remember. Had she missed something?

"Lieutenant, the vaccine works."

She turned to him slowly, absorbing and processing all of those words. Then she frowned as understanding descended, and she came a step closer, even going as far as pointing a finger at him. "You didn't take it," she said, and it wasn't a question.

He shook his head. "No, I didn't."

"Rush," she said, powerless against the hysteria rising in her voice, "why didn't you take it? You know how important this was, and if this has anything to do with your phobia, I swear-"

"I don't have a phobia," he said with an exasperated sigh. "I made that up. I didn't take it because I gave it to you."

"What?" That made no sense. "What are you talking about?"

He stared at her, probably knowing she'd work it out on her own. Jerk.

"How?" she asked.

He shifted. "It's easy when you're asleep in the infirmary."

She gaped at him. "You snuck in? While I was asleep?"

He shrugged.

"But why?"

"Because you needed it."

"That's not what we agreed!"

He shrugged again.

"Wait," Colonel Young jumped in. "T.J., what's he talking about?"

Tamara knew she was glaring at Rush. Rush just stared back at her. "There wasn't enough of the vaccine for everyone," she admitted. "I...stretched it as far as I could, but there just wasn't enough alien venom left. We ended up a dose short."

The colonel stared at her. "Just one," he said in disbelief.

Eli snorted unhappily, probably thinking of the stasis pods. "Typical."

"No, not just one," Tamara said. "When I realized we wouldn't have enough, I started cutting the doses in half. Honestly, I wasn't sure how effective that would be, so I didn't want to reduce it even more. We would have had enough, but…"

When she didn't finish, Young raised his eyebrows. "But what?"

She sighed and almost answered, but Rush spoke up instead. "Some of it went missing."

Tamara glanced at Rush. He was still looking at her.

"What?!" said Young.

"Someone came into the infirmary and stole one of the vials," she said miserably.

"Who?"

"We don't know. There's no way to know."

"What about the kinos?" Eli suggested.

"We've already looked," said Rush. "None of them caught anything."

Young's face was pink, and he pointed at Rush. "Why does he know all this and I don't?"

"I asked for his help with the kinos," she said.

"And it didn't occur to you to tell me?"

"I didn't want you to worry," she said. She knew it was a dumb, inadequate excuse.

"It is my job as your commanding officer to worry!" Young shouted. At the tone, Rush stiffened. The colonel took a deep breath and a step back. "You should have told me."

"I know. But there's nothing you could have done anyway. Whoever took it would never admit to it, and they probably just used it on themselves for good measure. It's gone." She glanced over to Eli, who looked crushed. She knew where his mind was going.  _It isn't your fault._

"So, what, T.J.?" said the colonel. "You were bitten?"

She nodded, reaching up to touch the welt behind her ear. It was smaller now, less painful. Healing.

"And you were just going to not take vaccine yourself, and die? Did you plan to tell me that either?"

She felt her throat closing up as she stared at Rush, ignoring the colonel's question. "We talked about this."

"Yeah." He shrugged. "I lied."

Indignation flared. "By telling me you had a phobia?"

He looked to the side. "I may have lied about that too."

The colonel looked annoyed again at not having an inside to this conversation. He started drumming his fingers on his arms, a sure sign that he was trying to contain his temper. "What are you talking about now?"

She had moved on from shock. Now she was angry. "He was the only one I told about the missing dose," she said accusingly. "I wanted to give one to him, but he said he didn't like needles. He told me that he was more comfortable giving himself the injection…so I let him take it out of the infirmary." She said the last part very quietly, unable to lift her eyes. It didn't matter. She could still feel the colonel's gaze on her.

"You did  _what_?"

"Please, Colonel, let's not waste time repeating ourselves," Rush said. "What's done is done. Rejoice and be happy."

Young gave him a look that Tamara could not interpret, something between a glare, a gape, and a snarl. "So what now?" he said. "What can we do?"

"Nothing," Rush said simply. "The vaccine is gone. It can't be helped."

"How can you be so blasé?" Eli demanded, throwing his hands in the air. Rush rolled his eyes, and Tamara got the feeling it wasn't the first time Eli had asked him that. "You're  _really_  not joking?"

Tamara watched Rush hold Eli's eyes before dropping his head without an answer. It was enough. Eli stood up and left the infirmary. Rush slid off the bed and moved for the door, muttering, "If there's no point in me staying in here, I'll be on the bridge." No one stopped him.

When he was gone, Tamara rested her elbows on her knees, put her forehead in her hands, and closed her eyes. She sensed the bed dip beside her under Colonel Young's weight. Felt him put a hand on her shoulder.

"Look, T.J., I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you."

She nodded and didn't answer.

"This isn't your fault," he murmured.

He was just being nice. "Yes, it is. I shouldn't have let him talk me out of it. This is my job. I should have just given him the injection."

"Do you think he would have taken it if you'd forced it on him? You probably would have had to chase him around the ship."

"I could have gotten Greer to pin him down."

There was a pause. "You don't really do that, do you?"

She sighed and shook her head, knowing he was trying to be funny, but not feeling at all amused. "No. But I should have in this case."

A beat. "Why didn't you?"

She didn't know how to answer that. She straightened and shook her head. "I just believed him, I guess. He's a good liar."

The colonel grunted. "Yeah, he is."

"Maybe for some reason I just didn't think he'd lie to me. Not like this. And now look what I've done." She leaned forward again, hiding behind her hands. They were very quiet for several minutes, but then the colonel spoke again, very softly.

"You said something about an agreement?"

She cringed, shaking her head. "Don't ask me about that. Please, Colonel, not right now. Don't ask."

She couldn't see him, but she heard him sigh. "All right. But I don't want to lose anyone this close to Earth. Is there anything we can do? Anything at all?"

She swallowed, hard. "I have no idea. I could try to study it, figure out how it operates, but we have almost nothing left here. We're down to the bare bones of supplies. Even if I do learn how it works, there's no way to tell if any upcoming planets will have what we need to fight it. I don't even know if Earth does."

"Barring a cure, how long do you think he has?"

She looked over at a piece of diagnostic equipment and shuddered. "I don't know. The parasite is growing. It's multiplying. It's what parasites do. He's already past the incubation period. He's bleeding internally now, and that's a sign of many things, and none of them are good, and there are very few of them that I'm able to treat here. And his emesis looked…thick." She winced. "I think I know what that means, but I don't know for sure. But he probably has more symptoms he's not telling us about, so I don't know how far it has progressed."

"Maybe Earth can help him," he said, rubbing her shoulder.

There had been times in their lives when they could communicate without words, and she turned to look at him now, hoping this could be one of them. When he gathered her into his arms and hugged her close, she knew that he understood.

Rush didn't have that long.


	5. Chapter 5

After T.J. collected herself and insisted that she was going to be okay, Everett left the infirmary and went to the bridge. It was empty save for Rush who stood up from the command chair and went to a console as he came in. Knowing Rush wouldn't talk about what happened in the mess hall or the infirmary, he asked, "How'd it go on the stones?"

Rush snorted.

"That good, huh?"

"They're up to something."

"What do you mean?"

Rush began unscrewing the fasteners from the broken console. "They had that idiot Williams running the show. They had set up this very large, very impressive, and very absurd calculation proving that I could have dialed Earth from Icarus."

"Why was it absurd?"

"Because in order for it to work, you have to divide by zero." He yanked hard, and the warped console face groaned away from its body. He dropped it to the floor. "That's impossible. But if it makes them feel better, Einstein made the same mistake once too."

"You'd think these people would know better."

"Oh, they know better. It wasn't an accident."

"Sounds like a setup," Everett observed.

"More like an ambush. They can't prove it, so they're trying to force it."

He watched Rush scrub some grime away from inside the console with his sleeve. "If they can't prove it, why would they want to force it? I mean, why would they want there to be a problem where there isn't one? Shouldn't they just be happy knowing you made the right choice?"

Rush stopped clanging with his tools and sighed. "As you said, Colonel. It's a setup. It wasn't just me and Williams; we had an audience."

Everett frowned. "Audience?"

There was a long pause. "Sergeant Riley's parents were there," Rush said softly. Everett knew Rush still felt guilty about that, and would for eternity. "And General O'Neill. Mr. Strom. Rodney McKay. Colonel Carter-"

"Telford said McKay was consulting."

Rush let out a breathy chuckle. "Consulting. That's a bureaucratic word. No, Colonel, he was not  _consulting_ , he's in this up to his neck." He looked up. "What is it called when a neutral party stands to gain something from a particular situational outcome?"

Everett considered that. "A conflict of interest?"

Rush stared at him in a knowing way, then turned his eyes back to the console. "Mrs. Armstrong was there. So were Mrs. Wallace, Dr. Franklin's son, and some other suits from SGC and the IOA."

"What a party."

Rush snorted. "Next time I'll decline the invitation."

"They'd probably like to speak to you again."

He huffed. "I'm sure they would. They can speak to me again once they've corrected their idiotic mistake."

"I'll let them know."

"You do that."

"So what is this conflict of interest?"

Rush dropped his tools to the floor beside the console face. "Perhaps you should ask Telford about that. He can also explain why I'm now officially unemployed."

Everett was struck dumb. "What?"

Rush reached elbow-deep into the guts of the console and fished around for something. "I have been removed from my position as lead scientist, and my services with SGC are no longer required. I've been given instructions to cease and desist my involvement in any and all repairs, maintenance, monitoring, or consultation related to any of  _Destiny_ 's systems or equipment and any other property belonging to SGC, and I am to understand that anything and everything I have learned while I've been aboard this ship is the intellectual property of the United States Air Force."

Everett just stared at him, not comprehending. "Are you kidding me?"

He snorted. "They're probably worried that I'll sabotage the ship. I suspect Sergeant Greer will shortly be given orders to guard all the buttons again."

Everett couldn't not notice how Rush was explaining all this to him while he was half buried inside the console. He watched Rush pull up a tangled mass of wires and roll his eyes with a sigh. "Did you tell them about your…condition?"

Rush scowled. "Didn't exactly have time for that."

Everett couldn't ignore it anymore. "So when were you planning on telling us?"

Rush rubbed his face. "Well, about now, I suppose. I figured I'd let it run its course and let everything happen in due time."

That didn't come as a surprise. Rush had a bad habit of withholding important details. "We should probably tell the rest of the crew as soon as possible. I'll call a meeting for later tonight."

Rush shook his head. "No, don't bother. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm not exactly popular."

"That doesn't matter. They deserve to know."

Rush looked at him. "Really? I'm not sure how this affects their lives. Fear not, Colonel - you still have Eli. You'll all make it back to Earth regardless."

Everett frowned. "I hope you know that's really not what I'm worried about."

Rush shrugged and began trying to pick the wires apart. "Well, some of them will be once they find out. At least you'll be able to reassure them of that much."

"Yeah…" It was a cold comfort. "Can I ask you something?"

Rush shook his head and wouldn't look up. "I'd rather you didn't. I don't feel like talking about it."

Fair enough. "All right. Well, listen, I need to go update Homeworld Command about this development."

Rush slowly raised his eyes. "If you think that's best."

How was Rush always able to make Everett doubt his decisions with one little statement? Nevertheless he rose from the chair, pausing as he observed Rush slowly tug at the tangles, pulling on loose ends, laying the separated bits out to length over the console's edge. "Maybe I should get Volker in here to do that…"

Rush snorted. "Please. He's the one who 'fixed' this the first time. It's fine. It won't take long."

He hadn't gotten the hint. "Rush."

"Hmm?" Rush didn't look up. He reached down for the console face and began reattaching the wires he'd untangled.

"Rush."

Now Rush raised his eyes. He looked at Everett, then back down at his hands. "Oh, please," he said. "Don't look at me like that, Colonel. I'm not going to do anything. I didn't bring you lot all this way just to blow you up at the end."

"I know that. But they don't know that."

"Lucky they're not here then, huh?"

Everett shook his head. Softly: "Rush."

Rush stared at him, then with a sigh, dumped the wires back where they came from. "Right, fine." He strode angrily for the door. "Good luck with Volker."

Everett watched him go, annoyed at his childish attitude, but also unable to stamp down the feeling of pity rising in his heart. He didn't want to go to the communications lab. He just wanted to sit here and stare out the window, taking some time to absorb what had transpired, what he'd learned; have a chance to look ahead, make a plan, prepare for what was coming. A lot had happened today and he wanted to fully understand and adapt before he tried to continue with the need-to-dos.

Instead he went to the communications lab. Telford was waiting for him on the other side.

"Everett!" David didn't sound happy. "What happened?"

"We had to cut the connection. You got sick."

"Yeah, I got sick! What is going on up there?"

Everett waved a hand. "We'll talk about it later, I don't have a lot of time right now. I just came to tell you that Rush is in no hurry to talk to Williams again until he fixes his mistake."

"What mistake?"

"I don't know exactly." Not totally a lie. Plus he figured Williams already knew.

"Fine. But we need Rush back."

"And why, exactly?" Everett asked. He knew he was stepping on ice here, but what Rush had said bothered him.

"Because they need to get this done."

"So get it done. Apparently some pretty bright minds are involved, use them. I find it interesting that McKay was consulting."

Telford frowned. "Why?"

"Rush said there's a conflict of interest there."

Now Telford hesitated. He didn't answer.

Everett squinted at him. "So, what is going on?"

Telford shifted his eyes away. "There is no…" But he didn't finish.

_What, can't lie to your old friend?_ "Listen to me, David. I don't know what the IOA thinks they're doing, but I don't like it. They'd better be sure it's on the up and up."

"You're being paranoid."

"I don't think so. This sounds serious, and until I know what's going on, I don't think I'm going to allow Rush to come back here. Not by himself, anyway."

Telford looked nonplussed. "What are you talking about? That's not up to you."

"Actually, I think it is. It's my responsibility to protect the people on that ship, and that includes Rush, from any preventable danger and threat. And that includes you."

Telford looked insulted. "I'm not a threat, Everett. I'm an interested party. I'm trying to get all of you home, and I'm trying to make sure justice is done when it's over."

"Justice?" Everett said. He didn't like the sound of this. Not at all. "What are you talking about, justice? I thought he was just going down there to look at some numbers."

Again Telford paused. Everett had learned what it meant when Telford wasn't talking: it meant he was thinking, and fast, of a way to backpedal or forge ahead and explain away whatever he was being suspected of. He was probably only just realizing Rush hadn't mentioned anything about whatever he was referring to.

"David, what is going to happen when we get home?" Everett asked flat out.

Telford did not break eye contact. A demonstration of power, Everett thought. "He had to know there would be consequences," he said softly.

That word again. Everett, for some reason, felt a flash of heat up his back. _I don't think this is what he had in mind._  Perhaps telling them about Rush's illness right now would not be prudent. If they weren't giving him everything, he wouldn't give them anything. "We'll see about that."

Telford crossed his arms. "They aren't going to like this," he said.

"They don't have to like it. But as long as I'm in command of that ship, I make the decisions. This is the decision I've made and I'll stand by it."

Telford shrugged. "All right. Up to you. Don't expect to be in command for too much longer."

"Five weeks, I'm told," Everett snapped. "I've told General O'Neill in the past that I would do what I had to do regardless of the consequences to my standing. This is bigger than me."

Telford snorted. "That's for sure."

That made Everett squint. "Why did they fire Rush?"

Telford raised an eyebrow. "I think the right question is, why  _didn't_  they fire Rush sooner?"

Right. That was the game, then. "I gotta go. We'll talk more tomorrow."

Telford dropped his arms and sighed, nodding his agreement. He looked somehow…defeated. "Keep him away from the consoles."

Everett disconnected.

—

Tamara had recovered enough to get something useful done. The infirmary was quiet as she sat by herself and recorded everything she knew about this disease. The list was disjointed, at times incoherent, and she knew no one else would be able to decipher her abbreviations, acronyms, and technical medical terminology, but it wasn't like anyone else would be able to do anything about this anyway.

_Sx: hdch confs. gen pain loc pain nausea - v blood? weknss numb-_

Her pencil broke. It was her second one. She was so worked up that she was practically carving indents through the paper into the surface of the desk underneath. She snatched another one out of a drawer but did not immediately continue, instead going to her microscope. On the stage was a petrie dish containing a sample of the blood Rush had left on the mess hall floor -  _thick_ , she had told the colonel, and thick indeed. Not a good sign. She could see the organism swimming around, and in spite of herself, she grimaced. She went to a second microscope and peered through the eyepiece at a sample of blood from another donor. Someone who had been given the vaccine. Someone who had been cured.

Her own. The needle she'd used to extract it lay forgotten beside the machine.

There was no microorganism. Her blood was clean, pure, and harmless. The vaccine she had made out of the venom from that spectacular jungle alien was a success, but her joy mingled with dread even as she knew that they had no more left. It wasn't a surprise, with as much as they had used. They'd all been inoculated once, and then it had been given to Rush for his surgery and to Scott for his arm deformity. Not to mention those horrible alien ticks. Eli - brilliant, wonderful Eli - had taken as much as he thought they would need into the stasis pod with him, but the rest had degraded too much in four years to be useful. She had already tried.

But she would not give up. She would think, she would learn, she would work as hard as she had to. She would solve this. She would save Rush if it killed her.

"Lieutenant?"

She jumped and spun around. Rush was standing in the doorway, eyebrows raised, apologetic for startling her. "Oh, hey." She put her pencil down and came around the bed. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, fine." He was gazing at her microscopes. "What's going on here?"

She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. "I'm trying."

He didn't need to be told what she was trying. He just nodded. "I see," he said, but she knew he was probably just being nice. "Any luck?"

"Not yet. But I won't give up."

"I know."

There was a pause, and she cleared her throat. "So, what's up? Do you need something?"

"No, I…" He folded his arms. "I just came to say that…I wonder if you might forgive me for lying to you. The, uh…" He gestured vaguely with his hand. "Phobia nonsense."

With a sigh, she sat on a bed. "That's a bit like apologizing for saving my life. I feel like I should be apologizing for letting you."

His face moved like he tried to smile but didn't quite make it. "You didn't let me."

Tamara nodded. "Our agreement…"

"Void now."

"Yeah."

Another heavy pause, and then he turned to the door. "Anyway, I should go."

"Wait," she said, rising to her feet. He waited. "I just wanted to ask…Why did you do it?"

He sighed, long and slow. "I told you why."

"No, you didn't. Not really. You said I needed the vaccine, and while that was true…it's not really an answer."

He frowned, just slightly. "Why does it matter?"

"Why  _wouldn't_  it matter?" she countered. He just looked to the door as if intending to leave. "Doctor Rush-"

"Look," he sighed, facing her again. "I don't know what you're hoping I'm going to say, but if you're looking for some kind of confession, you're wasting your time. I did it because it was the right thing to do. All right?"

She stared at him. "My family…"

"Will have a proper chance to say goodbye."

She frowned, pained. "I told you how I felt about that."

"And I think you're wrong."

Resentment flickered in her heart, unbidden and beyond her control. "Who cares what you think, Rush? Why do you get to make that decision?"

He closed his arms to defend himself. To protect himself. From her. "Well, Lieutenant," he said coldly, "if you think I've wronged you, if I have so completely misjudged you as to think that you would want to give your loved ones one last chance to see you again, then I am truly, truly sorry. That  _is_  the reason you abandoned the mission, isn't it?" He spat each word like it was poison.

"You didn't do it for them," she countered. For some reason beyond her understanding, that made her angrier.

He huffed, but he didn't deny it. "What do you want from me?"

"The truth." She snorted. "For once."

He frowned, and she knew the words had wounded him. She dropped her head, suddenly embarrassed. He didn't need this. To have his motives challenged every time he did something, to be defied at every turn. No wonder he never told anyone what he was doing. With a disgusted look, the kind he used to throw at Colonel Young all the time, he turned around and aimed for the door.

"Wait," she said quietly, reaching out and taking his arm. "Don't go, wait. I'm sorry."

He didn't go, but he wouldn't look at her.

"I'm sorry," she said again. "I just…We had an agreement."

"Yeah."

She frowned at him, frustrated. "You  _lied_  to me."

"Yeah, well, you lied to me too."

This argument again. She had thought they were past this. "I didn't," she said, determined to stay calm. "That wasn't me."

"What, you think twelve hours makes that big of a difference?"

"Yes," she said, "because in those twelve hours a lot of stuff changed." And it was  _because_  of those twelve hours that she never could agree to stay, because those twelve hours had put her future self in a position to warn her, if unintentionally, about the deadly disease she carried. If not for that, she might have done exactly what she technically did do and choose to remain on the ship, but now…she could not bear the thought of spending her final years out in space when the option to go home was available. He knew she was right, she could tell by the silence. He had no answer. He was still struggling, she knew, and she wished she could help, but the only way to help would be to surrender what was probably her last chance ever to get home. She just couldn't do that.

She knew better than to say she was sorry. It didn't help, and it just pissed him off. She remained quiet and waited for him to gather himself again. She hated how depressed he looked. Depressed and dying. She felt like that  _was_  her fault. Eventually, he said, "You are, perhaps, one of the more mission critical members of this crew. It would have been impossible to continue very long without you, even if all the rest remained."

It was about as close to forgiveness as she would get. He wasn't exonerating her, he was just telling her that she was part of the problem, but not the whole problem. She didn't actually believe any of it was her fault but she lacked the energy or the will to continue this debate. She just nodded. "Thank you."

"Can I go now?"

"Not yet," she said quietly. "You haven't answered my question."

His scoffed and turned to look at her, frustrated. "What difference does it actually make, Lieutenant? Why can't you just take it for what it is? It's not like I lied about  _not_  taking the vaccine."

That was true, but…"Why did you even agree in the first place if you didn't intend to follow through?"

He snorted. "Well, I think you're glad I didn't."

She stared at him. His words more than stung; they cut, they pierced, and she could feel herself bleeding, because she knew they were true. "Stop changing the subject. I deserve to know why."

"And why is that?"

"Because I'm the one you lied to."

He sighed again, dropping his gaze to the floor. He kept moving his mouth as if he was chewing on his tongue, either thinking about her argument or thinking she was an idiot. She hoped it wasn't the latter. "Lieutenant, listen to me." He raised his head and sharpened his brown eyes on her blue ones. "Not that I think I need to justify my decision to you, but you'll be home in a matter of weeks. When you arrive, you'll have people waiting for you. Family, and friends. People who care for you, all happy to have you back again. You have life waiting for you." He pressed a hand to his chest, then shrugged and dropped it.  _And I don't_ , she heard him not say.

"So what are you getting at? You did this because you have nothing to live for?" That hurt.  _What about us?_  she wondered.  _Your friends on this ship?_

After some thought he shook his head. "No. I only mean that you have more."

She stared at him.

"The greater good, remember?"

Before she could speak, their radios came alive together.

" _This is Young. I'm broadcasting this on all channels so there's no reason anyone shouldn't hear it. Everyone is to meet me in the gate room this evening at 2000. No exceptions."_

Rush sighed a little. "That will be the announcement," he told her. "I told him not to do it. I think I'll skip it."

She nodded. She didn't know what else to do.

He cleared his throat and moved away from her. "I'll let you get back to work."

She said nothing as he left, and when he was gone, she slowly went back to her desk. Pencil back in hand, she continued writing. The wind was nearly gone from her sails now and she hated to think that it was because of Rush's attitude toward the situation. He was saving her life, but he was so evasive about it that she wondered what his real purpose was. What had driven him to make such a tremendous decision? What force in the universe could possibly compel Nicholas Rush to give up his own life for the sake of another person? Certainly not…not what? Love?  _Please, Tamara. Get real._ Maybe she loved him - just not  _that_  way - because he was a person and he was the slightly crazy uncle in their bizarre little family and he  _had_  found a way to get them home, but she wasn't sure if she even liked him. Why would she expect more than that from him? Especially after the perceived betrayal he felt she committed?

She hated that he'd defaulted to his archetypal notion of the greater good; she wasn't even sure if she believed it. She'd hoped for more than this cold, emotionless practicality, for something to cling to and help her believe he had done it because he cared about something, that his life wasn't empty, that he believed something was actually worth dying for. She wanted to know whether he was just as unfeeling and pragmatic as she had always believed he was, and whether the fact that he did it for her meant he would have done it for anyone. She wanted to know whether she really meant something to him, or if she was just the person who happened to be there. She needed to know if there was anything she could have done to stop it, because in the end, she would blame herself. Because she felt plenty, and she didn't want to suffer for no reason. Because she couldn't bear the thought that his life would go to waste for something he didn't even care about.

Because if he had done the right thing, that meant she had done the wrong thing. She hadn't really bought his lie about the phobia since he had allowed her to give him injections in the past. She'd known he was up to something, and she hadn't made the effort to investigate. She could have saved him if only she'd _asked_. Did he know what this would do to her? Did he care how guilty it would make her feel?

_You didn't let me._

She stilled, her pencil hovering over the paper. She remembered his voice as clearly as if he were standing there beside her again, and a slow, sad smile pulled at her lips. He  _had_  been trying to comfort her. To temper her guilt. To make her feel better in his own Rush-y way, although in the end he'd tried to cover it all under a layer of ice and snow, possibly a reaction to her questioning of his decision to save her life. It wasn't her fault, he was telling her, no matter how she felt. He didn't blame her. At least, not for that.

She closed her eyes. It wasn't enough, but it was something.  _Thank you…_

—

_*Record*_

"Why do people always wait until the end to say how they feel? Why don't we talk while we have the time? Why don't we tell each other that we love each other? Or that we like each other? Or even that we tolerate each other? Rush isn't like that. You know how he feels about you. There is never a question where you stand. Most of us stand on the wrong side, but at least we know. It's...refreshing. No one tells the truth anymore. Truth hurts. And the truth is...Rush is dying. And we can't help him."

_*Save*_


	6. Chapter 6

It was dinner time in the Mess. Because the room could only hold about thirty people at once, slightly more if they squished, every meal had to be done in shifts. Everett was usually present for each shift unless something more pressing had his attention. Tonight, the only thing he was worried about was standing against the wall two tables away in the semi-company of Lieutenant Scott and Chloe. A small notebook was open in his hand, but Rush wasn't even looking at it. He was gazing around the room, not settling his eyes on any one thing for more than a second. Doctors Volker and Brody were at the table next to Young with Greer and Doctor Park and some others. The room was alive with electric excitement; everyone was practically giddy knowing they'd be home soon. In spite of what he knew, Everett allowed some of the joy to seep into him and he found himself feeling less depressed than he was earlier. The atmosphere was contagious.

Becker began passing around the rations. Everett saw Chloe take hers with a polite thanks, but then she made a face when Becker turned his back. "I am craving nachos," she said to Matt with a grin.

Scott raised his metal mug. "To nachos," he toasted, and everyone at the table echoed and clinked.

Camille sidled up next to Everett. She had a small smile, as she usually did, and she looked at him with her head slightly tilted. "Colonel," she greeted him cordially.

He nodded. "Camille."

She looked approvingly at the happy faces surrounding them. "I still can't believe it's actually happening."

"I know. It's like a dream come true."  _Or a waking nightmare, depending on what you're talking about._

Turning to him again, she asked quietly, "What is this meeting you've called for in the gate room?"

He shook his head. "That will be explained in the gate room."

"I hope it's good news," she said, and he felt his stomach lurch. "It doesn't have anything to do with getting us home, does it?"

He could sense the worry in her voice. He couldn't blame her. Glancing at Rush, who was watching him, he shook his head. "No, everything is still on course for home. This is something…else."

She seemed uneasy, but satisfied that her biggest concern was dismissed. "Okay. Care to explain?"

"No."

She was used to that. She walked away, shrugging.

At the next table, Chloe stretched her arms above her head and fidgeted. "I can't believe that in just over a month from today, we'll actually be back on our own Earth, breathing our own air!"

There were several cheers, followed by a very inappropriate snort from the general direction of Dale Volker, sitting at Chloe's back. Chloe turned to him. He kept his eyes on his crossword puzzle, saying, "I'm not counting on that."

Chloe frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He took a swig from his cup. "I just mean that I wouldn't get your hopes up."

"Why not?"

"Because." He finally turned to look at her. "I mean, this isn't the first time we've been told there was a planet nearby we could dial Earth from."

Silence. Friction.

"Are you saying Nick is lying?" Chloe asked incredulously.

"He's done it before."

Everett flashed his eyes to Rush, who had lowered his notebook. He could see the doctor's eyes narrow and his jaw tighten.

Dale seemed to realize that everyone was listening to him now, and he lowered his voice. "I'm just saying that when our only hope of getting home rests on the shoulders of a man who doesn't want to go, the prospects are pretty grim. Until I actually walk through a Stargate and see Earth on the other side, I'm going to take it with a grain of salt."

His statement was met with some murmurs of agreement from hidden places around the room.

"What is your problem?" Chloe snapped. "Eli looked over the data and confirmed it. The planet is there."

Volker shrugged. "Sure, the planet is there. But who's to say whether we'll make it? We might mysteriously run out of power, or the course might inexplicably change, or the data might suddenly show that the planet isn't what we thought after all. Any number of things might happen."

"Why would he do that?" Chloe challenged.

"Why does he do anything?"

Chloe gaped at him. Even Matthew, at her side, stared at Volker in disbelief. Chloe drew a breath and prepared to speak, but Rush beat her to it.

"You know I can hear you."

Dale, it was clear, did not seem to realize that fact until Rush said it, but he calmly took another drink from his mug and said, "I know."

Rush pushed away from his wall and approached Dale. Everett, on instinct, stood from his own seat in preparation to intervene, but Rush kept him back with an outstretched hand. Standing and Volker's side, Rush said, "All right. Talk to me, Mr. Volker. Don't talk about me. Just what are you accusing me of?"

Dale, emboldened, rose to meet him. "I'm not accusing you of anything. I'm just saying that there's a track record here that doesn't demand a lot of trust in you."

To the nods and hums throughout the Mess, Rush crossed his arms. "I don't recall making any decisions recently that cannot be directly credited with getting us within a month of Earth. Perhaps you would like to enlighten me?"

Volker shrugged. "Sure, we've made it this far. But my point is that there's usually a reason you have ulterior motives."

Rush snorted and looked artificially impressed. "Excellent tautology, Mr. Volker, but would you care to ground your argument in actual facts?"

Volker seemed to get braver, and he got in Rush's face. "All right, here's a fact: you were the one who trapped us here in the first place."

Rush half scoffed, half smirked. "Still bitter about that, I see."

Volker huffed. "You did it to satisfy your own curiosity. You always do things for your own ends, and I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop."

Whether or not that was true, Everett felt that it was very unfair in this context. Chloe actually growled at him. "How do you know there  _is_  another shoe?" she asked.

"Because there always is. When has he ever done anything for someone other than himself?"

When they were silent, Dale raised his eyebrows, and Everett cringed. The idiot was actually asking for an example. Rush said nothing, but Chloe answered, "He saved me from the aliens."

Dale snorted. "Okay."

Chloe screwed up her face. "What do you mean, okay? Okay what?"

Dale raised a hand and seemed to try to correct himself. "No, no, that's not what I meant. Saving you from the aliens was fine, but it didn't cost him anything. Chloe, what your father did was heroic."

"Don't talk about my father."

"Look, all I'm saying is that Rush didn't really sacrifice anything by going back to get you."

Dale Volker, ladies and gentlemen.

The look on Chloe's face was priceless. It was like she had never seen anyone quite as stupid as the brilliant astrophysicist in front of her. She rose, standing very close to Rush. "Are you serious right now? He sacrificed plenty.  _Destiny_  was firing on the alien ship while we were still on it. He took the time to find me, and he made sure I was still with him every single step. At any time the ship could have been destroyed, or they could have retreated, and we would have been lost forever! He had enough time to save himself but he couldn't possibly know he had enough time to save me. But he did it anyway."

"But there was no danger to him," Volker said. He addressed Rush now. "The aliens weren't going to kill you. They were going to let you go anyway, otherwise they wouldn't have bothered with the transmitter. You didn't have to worry about getting back to  _Destiny_."

"Is there a point to all this?" Rush shouted. Everett saw Chloe place a hand on his shoulder and noted how Rush did not shake it off.

"My point is that there must have been another reason you saved Chloe, just as there are probably other reasons that you are taking us to that planet." Dale actually looked guilty as he said it.

This had gone far enough. Too far, if he was honest. Everett approached the combatants. "Volker-"

Rush did not back down, silencing Young's protest with a hand. "And so what if there  _was_  another reason, Mr. Volker? Does it make my decision wrong? Does it make the outcome unacceptable? Does it cast doubt on my feelings about Chloe or anyone else?"

Volker snorted. "Well, it might, depending on what the other reason was."

"Why don't you explain then? What other reason would I possibly have?"

Volker threw up his hands. "How should I know? Maybe you knew what the aliens did to her and thought she'd come in handy later on. Maybe you knew how everyone else felt about you and you thought saving her would repair your reputation."

"Yes, because that obviously worked  _so well_ ," Rush spat. "Let me ask you something. Imagine for a moment that you're on Earth and you're walking down the street. Up ahead you see another person walking down the same street, and all of a sudden, a car hits him from nowhere and speeds away. You're alone. What do you do?"

Volker scoffed. "I'd help them."

"Why?"

Dale looked surprised, and mildly disgusted. "Because it's the right thing to do!"

"Fine," said Rush, "but you must have another reason for doing it because there's no danger to you. The car is long gone. So why bother?"

Volker opened his mouth to reply, then fell silent as he realized what Rush was saying.

Rush nodded. "Yeah." He pushed Dale out of his way and stormed for the exit. Young reached out to take his arm, but he wrenched away. "Tell them," he growled, and he was gone.

Young walked up to Chloe's side and looked at Volker. "Well. I hope you're impressed with yourself."

Dale gave a smile and a laugh, as if he were trying to cover his embarrassment, which only made Everett squint at him. "Colonel, look, I didn't mean to cause a scene."

"Next time keep your mouth shut. Understand?"

"Yeah, fine, but c'mon, that guy is really not-"

"That  _guy_ ," Everett cut in, quietly, "is not well."

Volker gave a snort. "We have known that."

"Volker," Everett said. He did not smile. He did not laugh. He stared at Dale and said, "He is not well."

Volker seemed to gain a small understanding of what the colonel was trying to imply. His grin faded away. "What...what do you mean, he's not well?"

The others were listening. Everett stepped back to address the whole room, locking his hands behind his back and holding his chin up to appear strong. "Everyone, I need you to listen to me. I was going to address this tonight in the gate room, and I will again for those who aren't here right now." He made a slow sweep with his eyes. Took a breath. "Doctor Rush is very sick." There were gasps, murmurs, and collective looks of confusion. "He has contracted the disease brought here by the alien insect. Don't worry, his condition is not dangerous to us, and this will not affect our plan to get home. But he is getting worse, and to be completely honest with you, he won't get better. He...will not make it back to Earth."

You could have heard a fly sneeze. The room was absolutely silent, and every eye was wide, every mouth fallen open or covered with hands. Volker had gone ghost-white.

Chloe spoke first. "I-I don't understand," she said, and her voice trembled. "We were all given the vaccine."

Everett nodded slowly, thinking of T.J. "Yes, we all were. All but Rush."

Someone whose name Everett did not know made a sputtering sound. "Better him than me."

He watched as Chloe spun around in righteous fury, and it took both Scott and Greer to hold her back. "Shut up!" she shouted.

Even Adam Brody would have none of that talk. He crossed the length of the room, seized the man by the collar, and walked him backwards to the wall, pinning him there. "You want to say that again?"

Everett hurried to intervene. He made a calming gesture to Chloe with his hand while he passed, and he firmly moved Brody away from his captive. "What's your name?" he asked the man.

"Smith," was the answer.

Whether that was true or not, Everett did not care. "All right, Mr. Smith, let me tell you something. The reason Rush didn't get the vaccine was because he learned that there was not enough to go around. Someone else was going to have to go without it. He gave up the one thing that would have saved his life for the good of another person. I can't help noticing that you did not make that same decision." He turned to look at Volker, who had turned slightly green. "And I believe that answers your question."

If the news that Rush was dying came as a shock, the reason why was even more so. Volker gaped at him. Greer let out a long breath. Chloe began to sob softly. Everett faced the room again, and said, "I understand that many of you have mixed feelings about Rush, but now is the time to set those aside and remember that it's because of him that we're going home. Let's show him a little gratitude. Dismissed."

Chloe tore out of the room before he'd finished speaking.

—

She stormed onto the observation deck. Rush was there, standing at the rail with Eli beside him, awash in the waves of FTL light. They didn't notice her.

"Now they know," Rush said softly, and she saw Eli nod.

"Why did you do that?" Chloe demanded, loudly.

Rush turned and had the gall to look confused. "Do what?"

"Give away your vaccine! Why did you do that?"

He sighed in what she assumed was supposed to be irritation. "Chloe, I don't think I need to explain myself to you."

"Yes, you do. Yes, you do!" He tried to walk past her, but she was feeling brave today, and she seized his arm so tight that her knuckles ached. He actually looked surprised. "Tell me."

"Why don't you go ask Mr. Volker?" he snapped. "I just went over this with him."

" _Nick!_ "

"What?!"

She stared at him, pleading.

He heaved a sigh. "I gave it to Lieutenant Johansen," he said, as if that was an explanation.

" _Why_?"

He closed his eyes, held them, and then opened them again. "She has something to go back to. She can live her life back on Earth."

"She has ALS," Chloe said through a clenched jaw.

"So what? Are you saying that her life is worth less than mine because she hasn't got much left of it?"

"No, of course not-"

"Because let me tell you, her heart is very full. At least she will see her family for a few more years. Maybe with a little luck by then there will be a cure. She could be the one who finds it."

"Or you could!" Chloe argued.

"I am not a medical scientist. I study heavenly bodies, not earthly ones. I leave that to the professionals."

"This is not a joke!"

Rush frowned. "I never said that it was. Look, if I hadn't given her the vaccine, she would have been dead before she got back home and her family would never have seen her again. That's not fair. What are you so angry about, Chloe?"

Chloe let his arm go and leaned heavily on the rail. Rush joined her, Eli on his other side. She could barely breathe. "I don't understand. What about you?"

He kept his eyes forward. "What about me?"

She looked away from the glimmering lights of FTL and at his face. Was he looking pale already? "Isn't there anyone who misses you?"

Rush waved the question away like a gnat. "No, not me. Believe me, when you land and I don't walk off this ship, there won't be many people who'll notice."

She swallowed hard, unable to even consider that, and Eli said, "I'll notice."

Rush looked at him.

"I'll miss you," Eli said. There was no sarcasm. No flippancy. Only raw, anguished sincerity, enough to make Chloe hold her breath to keep from crying.

Now Rush looked away. Tried to speak, and swallowed instead. "I see," he replied, and Chloe was struck by what a strange response that was. Rush would not meet Eli's eyes. "That's…nice." His hands trembled. He forced them into fists. Blinking, he turned from the stars. "I uh...I should get back to work."

"I'll be there soon," Eli told him, and he walked away with a nod and a wave.

When Rush was gone, Chloe looked to her friend. Eli's face displayed all of the fear and sadness she felt inside, and she could tell he was even trying not to cry.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked him quietly.

He smiled, but she knew that it was only to keep himself together. "I just found out today. He asked me not to tell anyone. Actually, he told me not to. He wanted to tell certain people himself, but I guess whatever happened in the Mess upset him too much."

"Volker," Chloe said, and that was enough for Eli. He rolled his eyes and nodded. "I do not like that man."

"He's a good scientist," Eli offered.

"He's obnoxious and cruel," she insisted.

"So is Rush."

She turned her eyes away. "Rush is my hero. I don't care what anyone else says."

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Eli preparing to respond, but he must have thought better of it. Instead he nodded, mimicking her pose and leaning against the rail.

"I can't believe this is happening," Chloe said. Her anger had not left; it remained, burning and roiling inside, joined now by an aching, nauseous pain she hadn't felt since her father died. She could feel a tear slowly crawling down her cheek. "I blamed him. I hated him. I wished he was the one who had gone into the shuttle. And now…" Her voice had gone pinched, shaky. Clearing her throat didn't help. "Now I can't imagine going on without him."

At her side, Eli audibly swallowed. A quick glance showed his hands gripping the rail so tightly they threatened to crack it.

Chloe sagged, suddenly feeling very, very tired. "Eli, what am I going to do?"

He did not answer. She only felt his warm, soft arms close around her, and she leaned into him and let herself fall to pieces.


	7. Chapter 7

_*Play*_

" _It's just sad, I guess. I mean, I don't know him that well, but I don't have a problem with the guy."_

" _I've never met him. I wasn't actually sure who Colonel Young was talking about it."_

Eli shook his head with a snort. Some people.

" _Man, this sucks. It was bad enough when we thought the rockslide killed him. Now he's dying again? I hate this ship."_

" _Eli, get that thing out of my face."_

" _I know we never really got along, but that doesn't mean I wanted something bad to happen to him. He's still a person, you know?"_

" _I don't know. I'm glad the vaccine worked, because otherwise we'd all be in a lot of trouble. I think it says a lot about him that he gave up his vaccine for someone else. I know a lot of people don't like him, and I used to be one of those people, but after hearing about this, I don't know…"_

Eli smiled a little bit at that one.

" _I think it's appropriate. It's his fault we're here to start with, it's about time he paid for it. Karma, you know?"_

That one made Eli mad. Really freaking mad.

" _I really don't have anything to say."_

" _I don't really know anything about him. I know what I've heard, but I know that he's done a lot to get us here. It's thanks to him that we're going back to Earth, and it makes me really upset that he won't even get to be there for the arrival."_

" _I just keep thinking…I know Colonel Young said it won't affect our ability to get home, but I just hope he's right."_

" _I'm just glad this is happening_ after _he found a way to get us back to Earth."_

That one did too. Some people were so self-absorbed. He continued flicking through the files, trying to find anything nice someone might have said in the aftermath of Young's announcement. In retrospect this probably wasn't a very good idea, since anyone who felt anything for Rush would probably have been too emotional to talk, and anyone who was willing to talk wouldn't have many nice things to say. He didn't know what he was trying to prove.

He put the remote on his lap and held the kino in his hands. His tired face popped up onto the remote screen, pale and weary-looking after two nights of no sleep. He hoped this wouldn't become a pattern.

_*Record*_

"He never does anything halfway. He can't. He's a go-big-or-go-home kind of lunatic. I don't know if he feels like he has to make up for something or what, but what he's done now is not fixable. It's not reversible. He's  _going_  to die. He chose now to do something good. Something big for someone else, who won't be able to pay him back because he won't be here long enough. It wasn't enough for him to save T.J.'s life. He had to give up his own to do it. Nothing like a little theater, huh? Maybe if he would have stopped piling guilt on top of guilt he wouldn't have felt a need to do something so drastic. But then she would have died instead. I don't know if that's worse or better."

_*Save*_

His watch told him he was forty minutes late for his shift, and he hadn't even showered yet. He felt slightly sick. Perhaps it was exhaustion catching up, perhaps it was something else. He didn't really feel hungry. He just felt…slow. He couldn't muster the energy to do anything. A small part of his mind wondered why Rush hadn't started yelling at him yet for being late, and the rest of him didn't care.

A quiet knock on his door made him glare. He didn't want company. He didn't want anything. "Come in."

Chloe came in. He felt himself perk up just a little when he saw her, but her face frowned a little when she saw him. "You okay?"

He sighed and put the kino on the console next to him. "Didn't sleep much."

"Me neither. I tried to find you on the bridge but they said you hadn't shown up yet."

Eli smirked. "Is Rush upset?"

She shook her head. "He wasn't there."

He sighed. "He never showed up last night either. I think he's avoiding us."

"Again."

It was true. Rush had gone cold and turned into a recluse for weeks after Eli and Chloe had finally marshaled the courage to tell him they planned to return to Earth with the others. He refused to speak to them, wouldn't even look at them, avoiding them at any cost. Eli knew how much he'd disappointed him, so he had suffered the distance and let Rush come back when he was ready. Although he didn't feel like Rush ever completely came back. He didn't listen to their reasoning, refused to allow them to explain themselves or justify their decision. The simple fact of it was they had forsaken him, and no excuse would change that. Eli feared that the damage could never be undone, especially now.

Chloe leaned against his console. "What are you doing?"

He picked up the kino and fiddled with it. Then he shrugged. "I don't know, exactly. I thought it might be good to get people's reactions to what's going on with Rush, but…"

Chloe sighed audibly. "Eli, I know you're really proud of those kinos, and I'm sure your documentary is going to be amazing, but some things don't need to be immortalized on film."

He nodded. "Yeah, I'm starting to understand that." But he didn't put it down. "What are you doing?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I just thought you'd want to talk."

"Why?"

"Because I do." She went to the door control and closed the bulkhead. "I hate this. It's so unfair."

"Rush…dying?"

"Yeah. I don't get it. What is he thinking?"

Eli frowned. "What do you mean?"

She shook her head and waved her hands, pacing. "I don't know what I mean. I just don't understand, it doesn't feel real. I feel so…so blindsided."

Eli shrugged. "People don't typically get any warning that someone they love is going to die."

"It's not even that. He didn't even tell me. I thought we were friends, or…something…and he didn't even warn me."

It did not escape Eli's notice that Chloe completely ignored his comment about love. She didn't confirm it, but she didn't deny it. Weird. "What would you have done if he did? Try to talk him out of it?"

She averted her eyes. "I don't know."

"He didn't tell me either. He feels betrayed," Eli pointed out. "By you and me both."

"I know he  _did_ , but I didn't know he still  _does_. I thought we'd moved past it."

"I don't think betrayal is something you can really move past. This ship is the most important thing in his life."

She was very quiet for a moment, thoughts turned inward. Then, hollowly, she said, "You're right about that."

"Maybe he just needs more time to adjust to everything."

"I thought he knew he could still talk to me," said Chloe. "And I thought I could talk to him. We're friends."

"I don't think Rush has friends," Eli said without thinking.

She glared at him. "Excuse me, Mathboy, but you weren't the one he rescued from aliens. If that doesn't forge some kind of friendship, I don't know what will."

He raised this hands in guilty surrender. "I know. That was stupid, I'm sorry. I'm not handling this very well myself."

"Obviously."

He sighed again and toyed with the kino. "It's amazing, the reactions of some people. They say the weirdest things." He held up the little ball. "I caught one guy talking about how we should have left Rush in stasis until we got back to Earth, then everyone would have had enough of the vaccine. There's an inspired solution, huh?"

Chloe shook her head and snorted. "Five years and I still haven't gotten the hang of this place."

"Five more weeks and we'll be home," he offered.

"Yeah, because of Rush."

He put the kino down. "Yeah." He looked up at her and saw her gazing to the side, biting her lip and trembling. She looked like she was trying not to cry. "Hey," he said softly, standing. He went to her side and put a hand on her shoulder, knowing he was no good at this. "Chloe…"

She turned and took him in her arms. He laid his face on her shoulder and closed his eyelids against the burning in his own eyes. This was  _hard_. He could feel her shaking. He could feel himself shaking. "I'm so tired," she whimpered. "I don't want to think about it, but I can't stop thinking about it. He means so much to me, you know?"

He did know. It had taken him a lot longer than it took her, but eventually he'd gotten there.

"After the aliens...after we escaped, I wasn't sleeping much," she confided. "Nightmares. I'd get up and walk around, and somehow I always wound up in the mess hall. He was always there, night after night. As soon as he saw me he'd make me tell him about it. Talking it out would help, he said. He'd listen, he'd let me cry. I tried to ask him a few times about his dreams. He would always say they were the same but he wouldn't give me more than that. I knew he needed to talk about it too. He just didn't want to tell me. He didn't want to take away from my pain. I wanted so badly to know what he went through, but he never opened up. But then…" She turned to look at his face. "Remember when...? Oh, you weren't there."

Eli wished he was there. "What?"

Chloe took him by the hand and brought him to his bed. She fell onto it with a sigh and a sniff, and he settled next to her, still holding her hand. "During his surgery to remove the tracker, he woke up."

Eli curled forward with a flinch. "Owwwch."

She nodded and wiped her nose on her wrist. "Yeah. He wasn't totally coherent, but he sat up and he said, 'What are you doing to me?' And right then I knew." She squeezed her eyes shut and curled her free hand into a fist on her lap. "I knew what the aliens had done to him. He was flashing back to when they put the tracker in. I asked him about it later and I made him tell me everything. They...they cut him open while he was awake. He was so scared, and all alone, and he told me that was the worst part. Knowing that no one knew he was there, thinking no one would care if they did, facing it all by himself with no one to make it better. He even...apologized to me for being relieved that I was there for him to find. Right then he just wanted…" She shook her head. "I don't know what."

"A kindred spirit," Eli finished. He took a swipe at a tear working its way down his own face.

"Yeah. And I had to apologize back to him for feeling the same way. And then, knowing what he had gone through gave me the strength to do it myself when I had to go back to those aliens. Knowing he faced it is what gave me courage." She looked at him sadly. "Don't tell Matt that I said that."

He shook his head, feeling honored. "I won't."

"And now..." She didn't finish.

Eli looked to the wall above the console, at the pictures he'd hung there. He didn't have many of Rush. Just a few of him in the background or out of focus off to the side.

"He and I didn't get off to the best start," he admitted. She squeezed his hand. She knew that, of course; she was there. But it felt good to say it aloud. "It took me months to trust him, and years to like him. Whenever I would start to feel like we could really get along, he would go and do something really stupid that made me change my mind again. Like start a mutiny. Or hide that he'd found the bridge.  _Every time_. But…it got better. Right before we went into stasis he told me I'd come a long way, which is, like, the  _highest_  compliment I can hope to get from him, and all I could say to him was that he'd been consistent." He tried to laugh, but only choked. "But I was wrong. He's changed probably the most out of all of us."

Chloe sobbed a little and nodded.

Eli had to think very hard about breathing to keep his throat open. These stupid tears wouldn't stop now. "I wish…I don't know what I wish. I just wish things were better."

Chloe curled in to him and burrowed her face in his chest. "It isn't fair."

"Nope."

The kino sat cold on the floor, forgotten.

—

The morning had come far too early for Everett. For the second day in a row he just lay in bed, staring at nothing, but this day he felt wearier than he had since they came out of their three year sleep. The announcement in the gate room had gone better than he had expected. For all seventy some-odd people on the ship, he could tell that Rush had very few friends. Most of the people who cared anything for the man had been in the Mess when Everett spilled, and those who were left over for the second announcement took the news rather well. Too well, in his opinion. Scarcely any seemed affected by the information at all, and even fewer seemed sadder than just what came on the surface. It was more depressing than if the entire room had exploded in tears and wailing.

A knock bounced off his door, and he had a sense of deja vu. "Come in," he called, and this time he made no effort to make himself presentable.

Once again, Eli came through the door. Everett wondered if this was going to become a pattern. "Hey," he said glumly. "Can we talk?"

"About what?" he asked. He did not want to talk, but Eli clearly did, and he wasn't about to send a grieving person away. He pulled himself up into a sitting pose, which was about all the effort he could make at the moment.

"Rush."

Of course. Everett  _really_  did not want to talk about Rush. "Okay."

"I feel like no one is taking the situation seriously enough," Eli admitted. He sat on the foot of the bed. "Everyone is just running around like they always did. It's like they don't care."

Everett wanted to tell him that it was likely they didn't. "People die all the time, Eli. The world can't stop every time someone leaves it."

Eli groaned. "Not you too!"

"No, listen. I understand what you're saying. But Rush made a point not to make friends on this ship, so we can't be too surprised if there aren't many tears shed."

Eli's eyes narrowed into an almost glare. "You mean like when Spencer died?"

Everett sighed. "Sort of, yes."

"All right, fine, but Spencer never saved any of our lives. Rush has. Without him we'd be dead two hundred times over. Doesn't anyone realize that?"

"They're probably thinking about how he trapped us all here in the first place."

Eli made a disgusted sound. "You sound like Volker."

" _I'm_  not thinking that," Everett argued. "I said  _they_  probably are."

"Well, they need to stop! I think it's affecting Rush too. He's become all quiet and distant and he's avoiding everyone more than usual. He even snapped at Chloe."

"How do you know it's because of them?" Everett was already weary of this conversation. "He's sick, Eli. He's exhausted. Maybe he just doesn't feel like being bothered."

"Maybe not, but I can tell you that the man is convinced no one is going to miss him when he's gone. I said that I am and he was shocked. Like I'd told him I was secretly a woman or something. Which, for the record, I'm not."

He was starting to understand why Rush was always rubbing his head. "So what are you suggesting, that we throw him a going away party?"

Eli's face would have been hilarious if Everett could have mustered the energy to laugh. "No! Holy crap, that's the most horrible thing anyone has ever said. Ever. No, I'm just saying that maybe we could encourage the crew to encourage him. You know, show him a little love."

"Love?" He raised an eyebrow.

Eli shrugged. "Well, if they feel it. I mean, there are lots of different types of love, Colonel. I know I wouldn't want to die thinking everyone hated me. But think about it. This is a serious question. How long do you think it's been since anyone told Nicholas Rush that they loved him?"

After quite a bit of thought, Everett had no answer for that.

"I'm willing to bet probably not since his wife died," Eli said.

Everett sighed once again. Then he nodded. "You're probably right. All right, we'll tell people to be nice to him."

"Thank you."

There was a sound of radio static, then Brody's voice coming over the walkie-talkie. " _Colonel Young, this is Brody on the bridge."_

Eli reached for the radio. "Brody, this is Eli, I'm with the colonel."

"Give me that," Everett said, and Eli handed it over. "Go ahead, Brody."

" _We've got an issue up here."_

No issues. He really did not need issues today. "What is it? Big?"

" _No, not big, just annoying. The console is still broken and we need it for ship-wide communications."_

He shook his head. "So why are you telling me? Call someone who can do something about it."

There was silence. Then:  _"Well, I was actually going to ask if you had seen Eli…"_

He looked to Eli. "Where's your radio?"

Eli stood to his feet with a grimace. "Must have left it in my room. I'll go now."

Into the walkie, Everett said, "We're on our way." Then to Eli: "Wait outside for a minute."

Eli shrugged and did as instructed. Everett climbed into his clothes, then made his way out of his quarters and walked with him to the bridge. No sign of the lead scientist… _former_  lead scientist. He was instantly suspicious about the absence, knowing Rush wouldn't stop working just because Everett told him to.

"Anyone seen Rush?" he asked. The atmosphere here had been so subdued since that meeting. The revelry had all but died. No more mindless chatter. No more stupid jokes. Their euphoria about heading home was underwhelming.

At his broken console - Rush's console - Brody shook his head. "Not yet. I called him before I called you."

"Did he answer?"

"Not yet."

"Has he talked to any of you on the science team yet?"

Brody and Eli shared a look between them. "About what?" Brody asked.

"There's been a change in assignment." He got his radio in his hand. "Rush, this is Young, come in, please." No answer. He looked at Brody, who shrugged. "Rush, this is Young, respond, please."

The radio was silent.

"When's the last time anyone saw him?"

"I saw him leaving the still last night at about 2300," Brody said. "He said he was going for a walk."

Young brought the radio up again. "Scott, this is Young. Do me a favor and check Rush's quarters, see if he's in there."

" _Yes, sir."_

Young went for the door. "I'm going to go take a look around. If he shows up, call me. We all need to have a talk."

"Sure…" Brody said uncertainly.

Everett left the bridge and began to wander without aim. He radioed T.J. "Have you seen Rush today?"

" _No, sir, not today. Why, is something wrong?"_

"Not wrong, necessarily. Just trying to find out what he's up to. Let me know if you see him."

He could practically hear her snort at the suggestion. But,  _"Will do, sir,"_  was all she said.

He headed for the Mess.

" _Colonel, this is Scott. Rush isn't in his room."_

Hmmm. "Okay. Keep looking."

" _Copy."_

The Mess was empty. Camille, whom he had almost walked right into, was technically in the hallway on her way out. "Colonel!" she gasped in startled surprise. But she said it with a small smile. "Everything all right?"

"Have you seen Rush?" he asked her.

Camille shook her head. "Not since last night, on the observation deck."

"What time was that?"

"About midnight."

After Brody had seen him in the still. "Thanks, Camille." He hurried off, deflecting her questions of why he wanted to know, and made for the deck.

Rush wasn't there. The deck was empty. He continued searching, first the control interface room and then the hydroponics lab. Every so often he would call for Rush in his radio, but never would receive an answer. Scott also checked in once to inform him that he'd spoken to Becker, and Rush had not been in the Mess all day.

Everett continued on, increasingly annoyed and troubled as the minutes ticked by. Homeworld Command felt Rush could be a threat, and Everett was beginning to wonder if they were on to something. There hadn't been any issues this morning he was aware of, but who knew what a desperate, pissed off, recently-been-fired scientist was capable of?

"Rush, this is Young, I need you to answer me."

"… _nswer me,"_ his words echoed from somewhere.

That was new. He stopped in the middle of the corridor he was in, glancing around. Into the radio: "Rush?"

" _Rush?"_

Aha. At the end of the hallway there was a door, closed. His own voice was coming from behind that. He went to it and struck the control button, and when the bisections separated he recognized it as the hallway where Rush came to think and write on walls.

He found him on the floor by one of the arches.

"Rush!" He raced over, dropping to his knees at the doctor's side. He was unconscious but breathing. That was good. He took his shoulder and shook him with one hand, bringing his radio up with the other, intent on ordering Scott and T.J. to come help, but then he realized he didn't actually know how he'd gotten here. "Rush, can you hear me?"

Rush did not respond. He was out cold. Everett thought of the first time Rush collapsed on this ship and he quickly checked him over, searching for head injuries suffered in the fall. Finding nothing, he slid his hands under his arms, lifting Rush up and locking his fingers around his chest. He dragged him out the door and didn't stop until he reached the infirmary. T.J. leaped from her chair and scrambled over at the sight of him.

"What's happening?" she gasped.

"I don't know. Take his feet. I just found him like this."

T.J. swooped down and took Rush by the ankles, helping the colonel carry him to a bed.

Rush began to stir as they settled him on a cot. "What…what…"

"Scott," said Everett into his walkie-talkie, "you can stop looking now, we found him."

" _Copy, sir."_

"Rush," T.J. said gently. "It's okay. You're in the infirmary. Something happened. How do you feel?"

He looked at her very strangely. He blinked. "What."

"What? Can you tell us what happened?"

"What."

It wasn't a request. It wasn't even a question. It wasn't anything. Rush raised his right hand halfway to his head, then froze, staring at his left. He frowned, then looked startled. Then he began poking at the fingers.

"Rush?" T.J. tried.

"What."

"What's wrong?"

He nodded. Wet his lips. Shook his head.

T.J. turned to Everett. "Would you excuse us? I need to look him over."

"Sure," he said, though he really didn't like it. "Radio me the second you find something."

"Yes sir."

It would be two more hours before T.J. called him back down to the infirmary. Everett spent that time on the bridge with Brody, Eli, Park, and Volker, explaining that Rush had been relieved of his duty as their team leader. He did not disclose that he had been terminated completely; let them draw their own conclusions. The news was received with very diverse sentiments. Eli was furious, first at SGC for ordering it, then at the colonel for enforcing it. Volker protested a little less loudly while simultaneously acknowledging the appropriateness of it in light of Rush's health. Brody stormed about Rush's dedication to  _Destiny_  and his need for work as a therapeutic outlet. Park just got quiet.

"This is so stupid!" Eli said. "They wait until we only have five weeks left to jerk the rug out from under us?"

"Well, they probably wanted to make sure we were close enough that nothing could stop us," Everett replied. He was guessing. He hadn't yet addressed this particular issue with anyone who would know the real answer, but that was high on his list of need-to-dos.

"So who is the new lead?" Eli wanted to know. "Who do we report to? What do we do when there's a problem?"

"Eli, you know this ship as well as he does."

Eli stared. "Well, maybe, but-"

"And you've learned Ancient."

"Yeah, but-"

"And you even admitted that you're smarter than he is."

Eli reddened under the surprised gazes of the rest of the team. "Okay, but…"

Everett shook his head. "Relax, I'm not saying you're going to be the new team lead. I'm just saying the ship is still in capable hands without Rush."

Eli scowled. "But it belongs in Rush's hands. It's practically his ship."

"Well, SGC thinks it's  _their_  ship."

His radio finally squawked: _"Colonel Young, this is T.J. Please see me in the infirmary."_

Everett rose, but Eli seemed determined to keep him there. "Why can't they just let him finish out the trip? What's five weeks to them?"

Volker snorted. "With his salary? Think of the savings."

Eli glared at him.

"You all know as much as I do at this point," Everett told them. Patiently. He would be patient. "When I get more answers, I will disseminate as appropriate."

He made for the door, hurrying on to the infirmary. Rush was gone by the time he got there. T.J. was standing against her desk with a clipboard in her hand.

"What's the word?" Everett asked.

T.J. put the clipboard down and crossed her arms. "He said he was just standing there in the hallway when the blackout hit. He's got numbness, weakness, dysphasia…" At his raised eyebrow she clarified, "Trouble speaking. All signs of interrupted brain function."

Everett let out a breath. "So...what, the parasite is attacking his brain?"

She shook her head. "Not directly. As I suspected, it's causing excessive blood clotting. That's why his emesis was so viscid. I think last night one of the clots must have made its way to his brain."

"So he had a stroke."

She nodded. "A small one. Probably not his first. He may have had a seizure too, but I can't really say. He seems better now, but...this is only going to get worse. At any time he could have another stroke, a big one, a heart attack, an embolism. It could be anything at any time. It's impossible to predict."

He thought of Rush lying in that hallway all night, alone. "What are the warning signs? How do we know when it's going to happen again?"

She shook her head. "This  _was_  the warning. There might not be any other indication that it's going to happen, just signs that it's  _happening_."

"So at any moment he could drop dead."

"Yeah."

"He could be walking down the hall."

She nodded. "Yeah."

"He could be eating in the Mess."

"Yeah."

"He could be sleeping."

She hesitated and swallowed. "Yeah."

Everett sighed and rubbed his face. "What can we do?"

She sat on the bed. "I gave him some blood thinners. But I don't have much, and I don't know how effective it will be. I didn't get this far with the others."

"Blood thinners?" He thought of Senator Armstrong. "Didn't you say he's bleeding internally?"

She blew out a breath and nodded. "Yeah, but I don't know why. I can't find the source. He's clotting so much that he really shouldn't be bleeding from anywhere. But if I don't give him the anticoagulants, he'll die of a stroke. If I do, he may bleed to death. I don't know what to do."

He didn't like this helpless feeling coming over him. "So we just…let him die?" He wasn't used to situations where there was no way out. There was always a way out.

He waited for her answer. If there was something they could do, she, the eternal optimist who could find water at the bottom of a dry well, would see it. But her nod, though barely visible, was final.

It was not the answer he was hoping for. It was obviously not the answer she wanted to give. He knew what she was thinking, because he was thinking it too:  _This could have been me._  This could have been  _her_. He squashed that thought. "Keep it up."

"Yes, sir." She looked to the side, then back at his eyes. "So…Rush said you told him he wasn't allowed to work on the ship anymore."

"I didn't say that. The brass said that."

"He said you agreed."

"No, I actually don't agree. But I'm required to enforce their orders."

She crossed her arms. "Colonel, you have to know what this is doing to him. This ship is his life. They're taking away the thing that means the most to him."

Everett sighed. "So you're saying that I should disregard my superiors and just let him run amok?"

"I don't know what I'm saying," she admitted. "I just know what I'm seeing. He's not doing well as it is. The ship is basically all he has left. Without his work to turn to, where do you think he'll go?"

She was looking at him as if he should know, the answer was so obvious. But honestly… "I have no idea."

She sighed. "Nowhere but in. He doesn't feel like he can talk to any of us, so he'll just spend his time alone. He'll withdraw."

"That was sort of what Eli said. He's isolating himself."

"What else do you expect? He wasn't sociable before, and even though he has some people on board he gets along with now, I'm not sure he'd really seek them out if he needed help. But he needs to. He needs a support circle, whether or not he acknowledges that. Just some people who can be there with him and for him when he needs them." She paused ominously. "And he will need them."

Everett pondered all of those words, nodding. "All right. I'll get to work on it."

She smiled very slightly.

"Good work, Lieutenant. Keep me posted."

"Yes, sir."

He went and found Scott, James, Greer, and every other serviceperson he came across to inform them that Doctor Rush was not to be left alone for longer than a few minutes for any reason, except in certain obvious situations. (James was happy for the limitation.) He told the same thing to Eli, Chloe, Camille, T.J., Brody, and, hesitatingly, Volker. If anyone saw Rush by himself, they were ordered to keep him company in case he fell ill again. There were protests, of course, particularly from Mr. Volker. Rush would not appreciate the company, and there were a few people who wouldn't know how to talk to him if their lives depended on it. Everett didn't care. They didn't have to talk, they just had to be present.

That task complete, he went hunting again for the man in question, finding him on the observation deck watching the dazzling stars shoot on by. He looked a little tired, but a little more like himself than he had earlier. Everett came up to his side and tilted against the rail.

"I assume you told them," Rush spoke up.

The science team. Everett nodded. "I thought it would be better for them to hear it from me."

Rush got that look he always got when he felt he had been undercut, but he must have lacked the energy to argue. He pushed by Everett, but paused when the colonel put a hand on his arm.

"You all right?" Everett asked, letting his concern show.

Rush sighed and crossed his arms. "Lieutenant Johansen can tell you all about it."

"She did."

Rush nodded and said nothing.

That was all Everett was going to get. He knew it. He changed tactics. "So, what didn't you tell me about your visit to Earth?" He asked it casually, making a point to study the FTL lights. He knew Rush would respond better if he didn't feel like he was being directly confronted, so he kept his focus elsewhere. As hoped, Rush came back to the rail and rested his arms on it.

"What did Telford say?"

"Not a lot. Something about justice, consequences, and not firing you sooner."

Rush snorted. "Then you pretty much have it all."

Everett turned to look at him. "Not really. Come on, Rush. Give me something I can work with."

Rush closed his eyes, settling his forehead in his hand. "It's not just me," he said. "They're replacing the entire crew once you reach Earth with the original team that was supposed to go."

Everett found that that news did not come as a surprise. He shrugged. "Okay. So what?"

"Well, who was supposed to be in command?"

"Telford."

"Exactly. Back on Icarus he tried to get me removed from the team. And who do you think he wanted in my place?"

Everett considered it. Honestly, he didn't know, but he had a guess. "Don't tell me: McKay?"

"Aha," Rush said, turning to him. "But the IOA has a plan of their own. McKay and Williams both are in a position to take my place on the new team. Telford wanted McKay, but Strom wants Williams. So they've compromised and appointed both as co-leads."

Everett tried to make sense of all that. "So…what were they trying to accomplish by calling you down on the stones?"

Rush gripped the rail and stretched his arms. "They wanted my compliance. It's a sweep job." He leaned again on the bar. "They made me an offer. If I agreed to let them 'prove', through their calculations, that I was at fault, they would spare me the litigation and allow me to retire quietly."

Everett involuntarily curled his hands into fists. "But you'd still be off the project."

"Oh, absolutely. Neither the IOA nor SGC wants me within twenty lightyears of any of their projects. They were hoping I would take the blame for this one. They'd make a big production of it all, serve some justice, grant the families a little closure. The whole problem would just…" He waved a hand toward the nothingness of space. "Go away."

The colonel waited, but Rush did not continue. "But…?" he prompted, knowing there was one. He knew this little tale was not half done.

Rush scoffed, a low, guttural sound. "They made it personal." He looked again at Everett, and the colonel could see the indignation in the shadows on his face. "They didn't only try to make me look guilty, they tried to make me look stupid. As if I wouldn't know you can't divide by zero."

He was starting to understand now. Trying to make Rush look like an idiot was the quickest way to make him show you just how smart he was. "So, I'm assuming you didn't take it well?"

"Ha," Rush said humorlessly. "No. No, I didn't. I agreed to their ridiculous little coverup only because they said they would only let me view the calculation if I did. I never intended to let them truly get away with it. And especially not after that. I challenged Williams in front of everyone, including the families they had brought in to witness my 'admission of guilt'."

"That's why the families were there?"

Rush nodded. "The President was too."

" _What?!_ "

A shrug. "Setup."

Everett sighed. "Ambush."

"Indeed."

"So, what were the consequences of not agreeing to their charade?"

Rush finally drew away from the rail and crossed his arms. Everett could feel this conversation ending, could feel Rush closing himself off. Gazing out the great glass windows, Rush said, "Nothing that matters now anyway."

Because he wasn't going home. Everett took a moment to gather himself, staring down at his feet, then straightening and turning fully to face the other man. "I really am sorry."

"What for?"

He knew that Rush knew exactly what for. Rush just wanted him to say it again. "I'm sorry that you feel like you can't trust me anymore."

Rush looked away.

"I really thought there would be another chance," Everett explained. "I thought in a few years, when things were better settled and the information had been processed, maybe we could try again. I didn't anticipate that they would fire you. If I had known…"

Rush waved a hand. "Forget it, Colonel. Apologies don't change anything. You made your decision, and we both have to live with it."

 _Not for much longer._  "What were you doing in that hallway last night?"

Rush glanced around the room. Everywhere but at Everett. "Nothing," he said finally. "Actually nothing."

"You know I would let you keep working if I could."

Rush snorted.

Everett fiddled with his radio. "Although, honestly, I am a busy man. I can't know what you're up to all the time." He watched Rush's face scrunch in suspicion. It was almost enough to make him smile. "It would be pretty hard for me to put a stop to something I don't know about."

Understanding smoothed Rush's features, and the man was visibly fighting a smile. "I don't know what you're talking about, Colonel," he said coolly, and left the deck with a bit of purpose.

Everett pretended not to know where he was going, and what he would do when he got there. He left the deck and went to the communications lab, dreading having to deliver the news of all this tumult but knowing that it was time Homeworld Command was brought into the loop. He once again found himself wondering if Telford ever did anything besides sit in the room and stare at the stones.

Today, Telford looked tired. "Everett," he greeted him dully.

"David," Everett said with the same enthusiasm. A beat passed. "I came to bring some news."

"A promise of your full and unconditional cooperation, I hope."

"Ha," Everett said.

"I thought as much. Well, that's just as well, because we have news of our own."

"You go first."

Telford forsook his rigid military stance and leaned heavily against the desk. "It's not good news, Everett. I tried to warn you."

It couldn't possibly be as bad as the news Everett had, but he waved David to continue.

"First, you. General O'Neill is not happy with your attitude."

Everett snorted. "At this point I couldn't care less how he feels about my attitude."

"Well, in about five weeks you're going to care."

"We'll see about that. If they want to fire me, they can fire me. It would be highly appropriate."

Telford shook his head. "Man, I don't get you. You didn't even want the job in the first place, then you latch on with both hands and all your teeth, and now you're prepared to just throw it all away. Make your mind up, will you?"

Everett rubbed his face again. He was going to start losing skin at this rate. "My mind is made up. I have reasons for what I'm doing, if they care to ask for them."

"What reasons?"

"We'll get to that. What next?"

Telford rubbed his forehead. "Next, Rush. They insisted on seeing him again."

"I've already given my answer on that."

"I know. And that's what I told them. So since they weren't able to finish what they needed to do before the connection was lost, they've decided to form a committee and wait until he's back on Earth."

Everett frowned doubtfully. "A committee?"

Telford nodded. "To gather the facts and make the final decision at that time."

"A jury, you mean." There. He said it. "They're putting him on trial."

"An inquest," Telford said. "In-house. They're trying to keep it low profile for now."

Everett snorted. "Right. And who is leading this investigation? Strom, no doubt?"

"Smart as ever, you."

Everett didn't know a lot about inquests, but he remembered his own evidentiary hearing on the ship. A shoddy slap-job of justice. "And who are they getting to sit on this 'committee'?"

"That's classified."

"Ha!"

"Listen, a lot of crap went wrong up there, Everett. People died. Someone has got to answer for it. And since Rush is the one who started the whole thing, everyone's pointing their fingers at him. Particularly Doctor Franklin's family. He'll be the main focus of the investigation."

"Yeah, I hear there was some big to-do with a bunch of the families," Everett ventured, watching with mild satisfaction as Telford twitched.

"I recommend putting some distance between you and him," the other colonel said after a moment of pause. "I understand you want to help him, but you need to stay out of this."

"I can't do that, David."

Telford leaned forward on the table. "Everett, listen to me. The more involved you are, the more suspicious this will seem. For both of you. They'll think you're hiding something."

"Yeah, well, that's a risk I'm going to have to take. I can't leave him to deal with this alone."

"Everett-"

"Anyway, there's a really big problem with their plan. Rush isn't coming back to Earth."

Telford frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Everett sighed. "He's sick, David. He's actually dying. T.J. says he won't make it back home."

Telford's face was a mishmash of surprise, horror, confusion, and - sickeningly - relief. Everett squinted at him. "Is that what happened yesterday?"

Everett nodded.  _Has it only been one day?_  "We didn't find out until later, after we broke the connection and got him to tell us. He has the disease I was telling you about."

Telford shook his head. "I'll report it. There might be something they can do."

"I doubt it," Everett said. "It's an alien infection. A parasite that's causing blood clots all over the place. The only thing we had to fight it is gone, and there isn't any more for four years behind us."

Telford leaned back again. "Then maybe they'll find a way to bring the inquest to  _Destiny_  before he kicks it."

Everett felt very indignant in Rush's behalf. "Don't you dare suggest that to them," he snapped. "The man is  _dying_. An interrogation is the last thing he needs now."

"I'll just tell them what you've told me."

"Don't let them do it, David. They're out for blood. Rush told me they're trying to manipulate the numbers to make him look guilty, something about dividing by zero."

Telford shifted. "I don't know about that…"

"Cut the crap," Everett snapped, slapping a hand onto the desk. He stood and stepped into Telford's space. "You listen to me. Rush told me all about the ugly little deal they tried to make with him. All right? I know all about Williams, and McKay, and their little plan to make Rush look like the bad guy. I know that the crew of this ship is going to be replaced the second we get back to Earth. Stop lying to me!"

Telford seemed surprised, but recovered quickly. "Fine, since you know, then you realize how serious this is. They're trying to fix the mistake they made by appointing Rush in the first place. He wasn't their first pick, you know. They got stuck with him."

"Yeah, story of his life. The only person who ever wanted him died."

Telford looked like he didn't know how to respond to that. He just shook his head. "Whatever. The point is, those families need closure."

"They need the  _truth_ ," Everett said. "Don't think I can't see right through this. They want so badly for Rush to take the fall because they simply need someone to blame. If no one's at fault, then that means everyone's at fault, and they can't have that. They want to make Rush the scapegoat. But it looks like he unhinged that little plan, didn't he? How did Mrs. Armstrong take it? How did the Franklins handle the news? Not well, I assume."

Telford was very still, arms crossed, unblinking.

"It's a coverup is what it is," Everett concluded. It was as Rush said. "They just want the problem to go away, and they planned to make Rush go away with it." Then he stepped just a little bit closer, poking Telford in the chest. "And why are  _you_  allowing it to happen?"

Telford rose to the intimidation, leaning forward into Everett's face. "I've got orders."

Everett laughed, because the whole affair was so absurd, and he couldn't do what he really wanted to do and punch Telford right in the face. "I've heard that before."

Telford just shrugged, as if that was supposed to be enough.

"I'm not letting this happen," Everett declared. "They can do whatever they want. Sounds like I won't have a job when I get back anyway, so believe me, I have nothing to lose."

"Everett-"

"I'm done here. I have to get back."

Telford just watched him as he sat back in the chair, his face unreadable. "I hope you know what you're doing."

Everett snorted. "I'm probably the only one who knows what they're doing. He's already dealing with his own mortality, David. He doesn't need things to be made worse on top of that."

"I'll see what I can do," said Telford vaguely. "I should let them know about this right away." He left the room.

Everett disconnected, but he did not immediately leave the communications lab. He stayed seated in the chair, mulling over everything he had heard, feeling victorious and defeated at once. All those times they'd almost lost him, Rush always managed to show up on the other side. All those times they'd almost lost  _Destiny_ , the Crazy Uncle always came through and kept her in their hands. After five years of battling against hunger, failing life support, aliens, drones, and each other, all in a desperate bid to get home, they were five weeks away from their reward, but it felt like an empty prize. A glass diamond. A crown plated in fool's gold. They were going home, but they were losing Rush and  _Destiny_.

It didn't seem fair.


	8. Chapter 8

No one seemed to know what to say. The silence was thick and heavy and suffocating and almost physically painful. Chloe was unusually sullen and silent, sitting on the floor in a corner, picking at hangnails while Nick worked at putting the console back together. The only noise was the jangling and thuds of his tools. Normally he preferred the quiet. It was easier to concentrate without constantly having to split his focus and maintain a conversation, but there was something about this silence that was unsettling. It didn't fit. Someone should be saying  _something_. The only other person on the bridge was Eli, who had lingered after his shift of babysitting. The kid was staring out the window and pretending he didn't know what Nick was doing. Even he wasn't talking. That was weird. What he was thinking about, Nick couldn't guess. His mother, perhaps. Or everything he missed about home. How much he was looking forward to being back there again.

He glanced at Chloe, trying to read her face, but he only found an empty, lifeless mask. She didn't look like she was thinking about anything at all. That was the most unnerving part, because she was  _always_  thinking. Ever since the aliens changed her he'd begun to see a lot of himself in her, but now, he couldn't see anything. He had to look away before she caught him staring.

"This is going to sound weird," Eli spoke all of a sudden, looking at him in the reflection of the glass, "but I think in a way you're kind of lucky."

It was something, at least. Nick looked over at him. "Care to explain that?"

Eli shrugged. "Not everyone gets to choose how they die."

What an unusual observation. He stared at him, soaking that in. "Well, that is true."

Chloe snorted. "And this is what you chose?"

"I'd choose old age," said Eli, but he was largely ignored.

"Yes," Nick said slowly, turning his head to Chloe, taken aback by her tone. She was  _glaring_  at him. "This is what I chose."

"So you die when it suits you?"

He turned to face her fully. "What?"

She stood from her corner. "You survived the explosion of Icarus. You survived being left on that planet. You survived the aliens. You survived being taken by the Lucian Alliance. And you decide to let a stupid alien parasite take you out?"

He went silent, staring. Even Eli looked surprised. "Chloe-"

"You know, I don't understand you," Chloe said. "First, you strand us all here. Then you promise to get us home, only to lie to everyone about the first Icarus planet. Then you risk your life by going up against the Lucians, then you lie to everyone again about the bridge, then you kill Riley, and then you kill Simeon, then you stay behind to let Future-Us go through the wormhole, and then, after getting us a new way to get home, you decide to kill yourself?"

This was, needless to say, not how Eli had expected the conversation to go. Nick wished he hadn't said anything. "Chloe, what-"

She stormed for the door. "You're impossible!"

"Hey, wait!" Eli protested.

Nick watched her go, bewildered. What was that all about?

"She's probably just tired," Eli offered. "And plus we've been in here for a few hours without a break, so maybe she's just…hangry." He shrugged.

Nick shook his head. "No. This is something different." He maneuvered around the console and jogged up the stairs, hurrying out to catch up with her. When he got down to the lower floor she was halfway down the corridor.

"Chloe!" he called for her. She ignored him and kept going. He moved after her. "Chloe, stop."

She whirled around. "What, Rush? What do you want?"

He halted. This wasn't like her. She hadn't called him  _Rush_  in a very long time. "What's the matter with you?"

"Ha!" she laughed out. "What's the matter with me? Is that your attempt at caring?"

"What?"

"Leave me alone!" She turned and began walking again. Or stomping, more like. He watched her go, lost.

What brought that on? He thought briefly about chasing her down, but he knew there was no reasoning with her when she was like this and all it would do is exhaust him. He turned to go back to the bridge, and hesitated. He didn't want to go back up there. Nothing against Eli, but he was exhausting too. So he hovered in the corridor for a few minutes, trying to decide where he wanted to go or who he wanted to see. Right now, no one. He actually just wanted to be alone.

And that gave him something like an idea.

He went to the kino dispenser, ducking and dodging every person he saw in his path on the way. Checking to make sure he was alone, he took one of the kinos and began to walk away again, then hesitated, turned, and grabbed several more. He sneaked back to his own quarters and settled onto his bed, held one kino in his hands, and stared right into the camera.

_*Record*_

"I am Doctor Nicholas Rush. I was the lead scientist on Icarus Base before the Lucian Alliance attack destroyed the planet. I have been on Destiny for five years, and I've just been fired…"

He stopped, then scoffed and deleted the file. He brought the kino up and tried again.

_*Record*_

"My name is Doctor Nicholas Rush, lead scientist on Icarus Base."

He paused again, trying to remember what Eli had told him the first time he tried to make him do this.  _"Just say what you feel."_

Facing the kino, he said, "I feel…numb."

He saved the file. Then he pulled the others toward him and lined them up in a row. With a black marker he wrote a name on each one: Colonel Young. Lt. Johansen. Eli. Chloe.

He spent the rest of the morning in solitude, talking to the kinos.

—

Name. Date of birth. Place of birth. Social Security Number. Marital status. Number of children. Employment history. Education. Criminal history. Height. Weight. Eye color. Scars, marks, or tattoos. Known allergies. Everything the government needed to know about who you were, where you were from, and how to find you. Most of the fields were blank, and Camille watched Colonel Young scan the document again and again with his eyes.

"Hmph. I'm surprised he gave you this much," the colonel muttered. Camille just nodded. "In case of emergency, contact…" He looked up at her. "Lieutenant Johansen? Really?"

She shrugged and shook her head. "I explained that question to him. That's all he'd give me."

Young put the file aside. "So what, then? He doesn't have any emergency contacts? Family? Friends? Next of kin, anything?"

She shrugged again. "Not that he told me. But this is just what I gave everyone here on the ship. He has a full file back in D.C."

"I'll probably have to have a look."

"It's confidential," said Camille. "I'll go."

Young raised an eyebrow, gesturing to the file she had just let him read.

"There's nothing useful in there."

He shook his head. "All right. Soon. There has to be someone we can notify. Someone to arrange his affairs."

"Should we send him back with me?"

He shook his head. "Can't risk it. T.J. says he could drop at any moment and it would be too dangerous to have someone else in his body if that happens. We'll let him know what we're doing, but he can't be involved."

"Well, depending on how it goes we might need him to go for a short time at least." She took a moment to ponder. "Did you ever find out if it's legal to sign papers in someone else's body?"

Young snorted. "No. But I'd be interested to learn."

She stood up from the chair, recollecting the papers and straightening them before sliding them back in the folder. "I'll find out for you."

"Thanks."

"We should go talk to Rush now."

He nodded, and they went together to find him. And find him they did, in the control interface room, alone.

The colonel was instantly angry. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

Rush hit a button and his screen went blank. "Well, not working, if that's what you're worried about."

Young shook his head. "Why are you here by yourself?"

Rush sighed. "Don't worry, Colonel. It's Lieutenant Scott's turn at the moment, and he said he would only be gone for a few minutes."

"Why didn't you go with him?"

Rush raised an eyebrow. "I didn't want to."

"Rush-"

"Here he comes," Rush said, and Matthew jogged into the room. He grimaced when he saw the colonel and immediately began apologizing.

"Sorry, sir, I had to, uh…" He shifted and made a face.

Gist gotten, Colonel Young sighed. "Fine. That's…whatever. Anyway, Rush, we need to talk."

Rush looked from the colonel to Camille, then leaned back and crossed his arms. "All right. What's this about?"

Camille was in HR mode. "I know this probably isn't what you want to be thinking about right now, but we need to make sure there is someone on Earth who is aware of your…condition. I'm going to try to use the stones to access your personnel file, but I don't know if any of those files were lost in the Lucian Alliance attack."

He didn't react.

"We need to know who to contact."

He sighed and nodded. "Her name is Constance. Last name Michaelson. She's a law professor - or, she was, as of a few years ago - at Berkeley in California. She's an attorney and the executor of my estate."

Camille nodded, committing those details to her memory. "All right, very good. I'll try to explain the situation to her as best I can. We may need to bring her on board."

He shrugged.

"Anything in particular I need to know?"

He shook his head.

She asked her next question carefully. "Any family I need to notify?"

He shook his head again, more slowly this time.

"Okay. I'll go now and I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Good luck."

Camille left the room with Colonel Young, who made some comment to Rush about being less obvious, at her heels. They went immediately to the communications lab, and after several trips back and forth to secure permissions and arrange for a woman for her to switch with, Camille was on her way to Berkeley.

On the plane from D.C., while her laptop booted up, she stared out the window to the ground thousands of miles below. It was always strange to her, seeing the tops of mountains way down there as if they were anthills. Seeing the clouds from above was always a thrill. She used to wonder as a child how birds felt about seeing everything below them from so far away.

Her computer beeped, prompting her to sign in. She did. She brought up the remote desktop to access the personnel files located in IOA HQ, smiling when she noticed that the files were uncorrupted. She had heard that the server had been damaged, but she saw that the only file she really cared about right now had been spared. She twice-clicked on  _Rush, N._

 _Nicholas Andrew Rush. April 14, 1961. Glasgow, Scotland. Widowed._ She scrolled slowly, seeking any valuable input, she told herself. Not to learn more about the man who liked to keep secrets.  _No children._   _No criminal record. Brown eyes. Five-foot-seven. No known allergies._

The second page of the file was Nicholas's picture taken for his security badge. He hadn't changed much. The third page was his emergency contact information, and Camille browsed through the history of changes.

Interesting. When he'd first been recruited he had listed a Gloria Rush for his emergency contact. After that it had been changed to one Joseph Rush, and then again to Constance Michaelson. Camille hovered over the names. A text box appeared explaining that Gloria was Nicholas's wife, and Joseph was his father. Each one had a picture file attached, and Camille smiled. Nick looked very much like his father, and his wife was beautiful. Both of them had dates of death listed beside their dates of birth.

She sighed. Nicholas's father and his wife both had passed away while he was working on the Icarus project. And he never told anyone.

She was starting to think this was a mistake. What was she thinking, taking on this task herself? She was HR, sure, but that didn't make her Supergirl. She cared for the people of SGC, and for those people on the ship more so than the others, even the ones who were difficult to like. But that's what made this so hard. She always tried to infuse the human element into everything she did when dealing with people, but getting too attached was something she had been struggling with for all of her life. She cared. And she knew someone who was dying or losing a loved one wouldn't want to receive the cold detachment of someone who didn't know them.

That would have been easier. Sending someone else who was already on Earth to inform Constance Michaelson. Let them deal with it. But that wasn't Camille. So here she was, on this airplane, flying across the country to give some very bad news to a woman she had never met.

She closed the laptop.

Upon landing in California, she found that there was a car waiting for her. They drove in silence to Berkeley. Camille found herself slightly overwhelmed at the size of the university campus, but she pretended to know where she was going as she wandered around, eventually stopping to ask if they knew whether Constance Michaelson still worked there. Yes, she was told, and directions were given.

She found Ms. Michaelson in her office. The door was ajar. Camille knocked, and entered fully upon the permission to come in.

Sitting at the desk was a pretty woman with dark skin, dark hair, and dark eyes. Camille recognized her from her picture. "Constance Michaelson?" she said.

Constance stood to greet her but did not smile. "Yes? May I help you?"

"My name is Camille Wray." She handed her a letter signed by General O'Neill explaining the situation.

She watched the woman's eyes drop briefly before rising again. "Your uniform says Baldwin."

Oh, dear, how was she going to explain this? She should have called first. Camille smiled to ease the situation. "Yes, it does. I'm borrowing the uniform. My name is Camille and I work for the IOA. In the Human Resources department, not the military."

Constance squinted one eye. "All right," she said in a way that told Camille she didn't even know what IOA was. While reading the letter, she asked, "How can I help you?"

"Do you know Nicholas Rush?"

Constance's eyes widened. Bingo. "Nick? Yes, I know Nick. Is something wrong? Where is he? I haven't been able to reach him for years!"

"He's all right," Camille said automatically, then instantly regretted it when Constance's face brought forth a smile. She really was out of practice. "He's…well, to be honest, he's in a bit of a situation. He needs your help."

Constance frowned now. "What kind of a situation? Legal trouble?"

Well, yes, according to what the colonel had told her. But Camille shook her head. "Not entirely. You are the executor of his estate, correct?"

All at once, Constance seemed to realize the purpose of this visit. "No." She shook her head. "I mean yes, I am, but…Nick is…?"

Camille was forced to nod. "Yes, I'm afraid he is. He's fallen ill and the situation is grave. You are his emergency contact and he said that you are also his executor. He will have need of your services as soon as possible."

Constance reached for a tissue on her desktop, blotting her eyes. "What happened? Where is he right now?"

How to answer that? "I'm afraid there's a lot we need to tell you. We need you to come to D.C. right away."

Constance hesitated. "Right away? You mean, right now? Today?"

"Yes. We have a car already outside waiting."

The poor woman looked distraught, pacing and shaking her head, glancing at the letter again and then back at Camille. "I can't, not right now. I have a class this afternoon and I have meetings with clients, and I have…" She looked back at Camille. "How grave?"

She hesitated. "Very, very grave. He's dying, ma'am. He could pass away at any time."

Constance fell into her chair. She patted her eyes and blew her nose. "I can't believe this. Nick…What's he doing in D.C.?"

Questions, questions, questions. And so few answers. "I can explain it on the way, but please understand that this is very highly classified. As an attorney I'm sure you can appreciate discretion."

Constance nodded. "Of course." She thought for a few moments more, then nodded and rose to her feet. "All right. Just give me a few minutes to make arrangements. How long will I be gone?"

"We will try to get you back as soon as possible, but I would allow a few days. I don't know how long this is going to take."

Constance wiped her nose and nodded. "All right. All right. Would you excuse me, please?"

Camille went outside to wait. She could hear Constance making several phone calls and several apologies, and soon the woman was joining her in the hallway with a go bag.

"I'm ready," Constance said.

They hurried to the car.

—

It had been a long time since Nick felt safe in any environment. It wasn't that he was in constant fear for his life, though that was happening more and more lately, but he was always in constant fear of something - injury or damage to himself, his reputation, his career. On Icarus, he was protected by the military, but Colonel Telford had spent the months eroding his authority and trying to get him removed from the team. Here on  _Destiny_ , he always felt someone watching him, plotting against him, laying traps and setting snares. He had to move like a ghost, unseen, unheard, or else be captured. If it wasn't some member of the crew wanting to kill him, it was the ship itself or some hostile alien. He lived in terror of the colonel every moment he had the tracker in his chest, and then for weeks, months after that, fleeing and fighting nightmares in the dark, the horrors in his head. He hadn't been able to fully attain his equilibrium before he had been taken prisoner again, this time by the Lucians. That ordeal brought nightmares of its own. The drones followed, then malfunctioning stasis pods…

Now he knew he was in absolute mortal danger, but while knowing what was coming still left him feeling unsafe, it also made him somehow less afraid. There was no question now what was going to happen in the end. He didn't have to waste time planning and fretting over the possibility of failure because he  _knew_  that he wasn't going to survive. The mystery removed, much of the fear was gone.

Except that it brought along its own particular kind of dread.

_Most people realize their own mortality at some stage in the game, Eli._

He had never been in a situation he knew he couldn't get out of. When the aliens took him captive, had him trapped in a water tank, he knew he'd escape. He would just have to be smarter than they were, and there was no question about that. When he woke up on that alien planet, abandoned and alone, he knew it was temporary. All he had to do was get the ship operational again. Even during the years after his wife died, when he was slogging through darkness, depression, anger, and despair, he knew he'd find his way out again. Not that he could imagine  _how_  such a thing could be possible. He just knew.

_It's not a particularly unique experience._

This was a new experience for him. He had never felt so helpless. He was waiting for the end, knew it was coming; didn't know when, only had a vague idea how. But it was coming. Fast. And he couldn't avoid it. He couldn't get away. Couldn't outrun it, outthink it, outnumber it, or outgun it. And he had brought it on himself.

_The question is, did it change you?_

The fact that it was Dale Volker keeping him company at the moment he had this slightly disturbing revelation didn't help.

"Is there something you'd like to say to me?" he asked out loud. Volker, at his side, had spent the last few minutes staring at him out of the corner of his eye. But now he shook his head.

"No. I don't have anything to say to you at all."

"Then if you'd kindly ignore me, that might work out best for everyone."

"Deal."

He tried to focus on his notebook, but having Dale there was distracting. He couldn't relax and couldn't get comfortable. He tried to hide the shiver that shook him.

"You should have told someone before you did it," Volker said at last.

Nick sighed. "Oh, yeah? And why is that then?"

"So they wouldn't feel so taken by surprise."

He snorted. "If I had told them they wouldn't have let me do it."

Dale shrugged. "Eh. You never know."

For some reason, that stung in a way he never expected. This wasn't the first time this man had used an opportunity to take a dig. _"It burns you up, doesn't it? We got along just fine...without you."_ Normally he couldn't care less about the opinion of Dale Volker, but recent events had made him start to care about all kinds of strange things he never had before. He decided the risk of being alone outweighed the benefits of being in this man's company, and he got up and went for the door of the observation deck.

"You're not supposed to be left alone," Volker called after him, making absolutely no effort to come with him. "Colonel's orders."

"I'll tell him you tried to follow but couldn't keep up."

"Would you still have done it if it were me?" Volker asked from the blue.

Nicholas slowed his pace for one step before proceeding on without answering. He didn't know where he was going, but that didn't stop him from being in a hurry to get there.

"Nicholas?" came the voice suddenly of Camille, and he turned to see her approaching with Lieutenant James. James was staring at him with wide eyes. Suddenly she began to cry, and he didn't know what to do when out of nowhere she stepped up and wrapped her arms around him.

"Um," he said.

"Nicholas, this is Ms. Michaelson," Camille hurried to explain.

He relaxed and recovered quickly enough to give Constance an awkward squeeze. "Ah, I see. Constance, welcome."

She was looking around with huge eyes, taking everything in in fascinated wonder. "Is this for real? Is this actually a spaceship?"

He glanced to Camille, who nodded. "She's been briefed. She knows the situation."

"Yeah," he said to his friend. "This is actually a spaceship. Now you know why I haven't called you back." He winced.

Constance smiled, but the smile swiftly faded. "They told me about your…your illness." Her face twisted again, and tears peeked out of the corners of her eyes. "Nick, I'm so sorry."

He shrugged one shoulder. He had never been terribly close to Constance. She was more Gloria's friend, and they had drifted apart quickly after Gloria died. He kept her as his emergency contact and executor out of respect for Gloria and to avoid the hassle of changing it all again. He changed the subject. "How's Berkeley?"

She laughed a bit. "The same. The students and faculty still talk about you."

He snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Um," Camille said, to remind them of her presence. "I do hate to interrupt, but we may have a very short window in which to do this. Let's go talk in private."

They went to the Mess. Not exactly private, but it was someplace where they all could sit and talk paperwork. He did not fail to notice how Chloe got up and left the moment he walked in.

"So, Nick," said Constance, sliding onto a bench next to him. "Five years is a long time."

He nodded. "I know. I'm sorry. We didn't have time to call first to let anyone know where we were going. Plus it was confidential."

She had the grace to nod. "Of course. But I'm here now. What do you need me to do?"

"Have you checked on the house?"

"Yes," she said. "It sold last year."

"Good."

"And the cars were donated."

He nodded.

"The only thing I wasn't sure what to do with was the stuff in your storage unit."

He shrugged. "It doesn't really matter now. Sell it, or donate it all. I really don't care."

She frowned a little. "There's a lot of Gloria's stuff in there."

He dropped his eyes. Gloria had a lot of stuff, and he hadn't been able to part with any of it up to now. "Fine. Keep whatever you want, but get rid of the rest. I have no use for it."

She smiled. His permission was all she wanted.

"Tell me, is your name still on the bank account?"

She nodded. "Yep."

"How much is there?" She gave him a rough number. "Good. Here's what I want you to do…"

They sat there for a few hours, hammering out fine details and technicalities. By the time they'd finished it was late into the night, and both Constance and Camille were worn out, so they all agreed to continue in the morning. The next day found them going back and forth to Earth on the stones several times speaking with creditors and banks, and Constance drew up several documents for estate, probate, and will. The Attorney General granted permission for him to sign the papers while in another person's body on account of that they could prove it was indeed his consciousness and there was no alternative since he would not be making it back to Earth. Camille did a commendable job of running interference and shielding him from her superiors in the IOA. Nick learned that Telford, having switched with him each time, spent his time on  _Destiny_  following Colonel Young around and was becoming more and more jittery with each swap, afraid the body he was occupying would spontaneously stop living while he was in it.

Before he returned to Destiny for the final time, he took a moment to talk to his friend. "I want to thank you," he told her.

She smiled. "It's what I'm here for. It's what you pay me for." She said the last part with a wink.

He smiled a little too. "Well, yeah, of course that, but what I mean is…I want to thank you for being there for Gloria when I wasn't. I should have been. I wish I had been. She needed someone, and I wasn't there. I'm glad she had you."

Constance lost all smiles entirely. The truth of the situation seemed to be hitting her again, and she drew him into her arms once more. He held her back this time. "She knew how much you loved her."

He nodded. "I know."

"She never doubted. And I know how much she loved you. If she could see you now…Oh, Nick, she wouldn't want you to keep feeling guilty about that."

He nodded again. "I know that."

Constance pulled back and held him at arm's length. "So stop. With the time you have left, try to be happy. Allow yourself to move on from that and find something that makes you smile. For her."

He tried to smile. "I will."

"All right. You should…" She looked at the chair, biting her lip. "You should probably go now."

"Yeah. Colonel Telford is probably getting rather twitchy."

Constance smiled at him through her tears. "Goodbye, Nick."

He took her hand and squeezed it. "Goodbye, Constance." He sat in the chair and closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he was back on  _Destiny_  in his failing, weakened body once again. Camille and Lieutenant James were waiting to help him walk back to his room, a chore in itself. The whole way there he fought a shudder. He yearned for solitude, for quiet, for space to think, but that hope was smashed when he opened the door and found Brody in a chair by the bed.  _No, no, no, get out, leave me alone_. He bit his tongue to keep from shouting. Colonel Young meant well, but this was not helping. The last thing he needed was someone staring at him all night while he was trying to sleep.

But he was glad that at least it wasn't Volker.

In the end it didn't matter, because he couldn't relax at all under the knowledge that he had just seen Earth for the very last time.


	9. Chapter 9

The dark infirmary gradually grew brighter as the simulated daytime dawned. Tamara had spent the entire night studying the parasite in the petri dish and its reactions to various compounds. Brody's alcohol, hydrochloric acid, pure water, muddy water, various plants from hydroponics, other venoms they had encountered…nothing was working. She hadn't felt this helpless since Matt's encounter with the bizarre plant alien that turned his arm and his blood blue. That one had reacted to fire, but what was she supposed to do? Set Rush on fire? The only thing that had defeated it in the end was Chloe's alien blood. But now even that was gone too.

She wanted to cry. She became a medic to help people, but she wasn't qualified for this. No Earthly medicine would help against an alien parasite. She was amazed they had even made it this far.

 _Dark thoughts, Tamara, dark thoughts_ , she scolded herself. She wouldn't get anywhere this way.

She pushed back from her desk and stood, gasping with a little start when she noticed she had a visitor. He was sitting very quiet and very still on one of the beds, gaze distant. He didn't even react to her movement. "Doctor Rush?" she said softly.  _How long has he been sitting there?_  He raised his head to look at her, smiling halfway.

"Lieutenant."

She came closer. It was startling that he would come here willingly, partly because she suspected he was still angry at her. If he was here, there must be something really wrong. "Are you okay?"

He waved a hand. "Fine, fine. I was just looking for a little peace, and uh…" He seemed to search for the word. He frowned in thought, blinking, then appeared to lose the thought entirely. His eyes wandered and lost focus again.

Tamara pushed a surge of dread down into her gut. "You're hiding," she teased.

He smiled again. "Yeah."

"From the people on the ship?"

He nodded. "They keep crowding me. They won't leave me alone."

"Colonel's orders," she said. He just nodded. She walked over to stand at his side and held a hand to his forehead, frowning that he still felt warm. She could feel the coolness of her hand leeching the heat from his head, and he closed his eyes and sighed. "How do you feel?" she asked him.

"I'm fine, thank you."

"Okay," she said. "Now how do you  _really_  feel? I want to help you."

He folded his arms against himself. "Well, not good, actually."

"Trouble sleeping?" she guessed. He looked exhausted.

He nodded.

"Any pain?"

After a brief hesitation, another nod.

"Okay. I can do something about that." She went to her cabinet and began searching for some painkillers.

"Still no luck, I assume?"

She looked at him. He was staring at her microscopes. She shook her head and kept searching the shelves, saying, "No. I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "Don't be. I know you tried."

She took a small bottle of white powder from the shelf and handed it to him. "This should help. The blood thinners should be taking care of some of the problem, but this stuff ought to do the rest."

He nodded and thanked her. She busied herself with some inventory paperwork, not wanting to pay him too much attention for fear of scaring him away. When he did go, he did so quietly, not sparing her a goodbye, and leaving her feeling cold.

She turned her attention back to the microscope. She had tested the blood thinners she was giving Rush against a small amount of his blood, and while they were successful in breaking up clots, they had no effect whatsoever on the parasite. Once the medicinals were purged from his system, he would be right back where he was before. Once she ran out, it would be over. She wondered if there was some cure on the planet the organism had come from, and she wished she could go back.

She had long ago learned which footsteps were the colonel's long before he ever appeared, and she was facing the doorway when he walked in. He frowned in concern when he saw her. "You okay?" he asked.

The truth was too complicated, so she just nodded. "How is everything?"

He made a face. "Not good. I've been spending a lot of time with Telford and I gotta say, it's not going to be pretty when we get back there. A lot of people died out here. There will be a lot of questions, and not enough answers."

Tamara just nodded. As much as she wanted to be home, she simultaneously dreaded it. There was no telling how it would all go. Although she knew that she had little to worry about, having done her best out here with what she had to work with.

"I came to ask your opinion," the colonel said. "The primary focus of these investigations will be Rush. How well do you think he could handle it in his condition if they were to come here?"

She gawked at him. "You can't be serious."

"Oh, don't I wish."

She snorted and shook her head. "Honestly? Not well. He was in here earlier looking for something to help him sleep and he seemed really out of it. Not drunk, not even tired. Just…out of it."

"Like when he couldn't work out different types of handwriting."

She frowned. "Yeah. Lack of oxygen in the brain causes cell death. Brain cell death is serious and affects everything. It'll only get worse. His critical thinking process, motor control, speech, balance, spatial awareness, reasoning skill, reflexes, memories…it's all going to go eventually. I don't know in what order or how quickly, but eventually it could all be gone. He may deteriorate so much that he turns into a vegetable. He might go into a coma. Or he might suffer a stroke or heart attack and die suddenly. Stress may cause him to lose sleep, and lack of sleep will make the symptoms worse. I would very strongly discourage it."

Saying all of this out loud, she was struck anew by an urge to help Rush. She couldn't let him go through this. But simultaneously she realized just how dangerous Earth had become for him, and she wondered if it would be a mercy that he wouldn't be there to go through what the IOA and SGC had reserved.

"You don't think that's why he did this, do you?" Young suddenly blurted. It was like he could read her thoughts. "I had a discussion with Telford yesterday and a lot of people back there seem to think this was Rush's plan all along. The word 'coward' and may or may not have been used."

That made her angry. "I think Telford is going to believe whatever he wants to believe."

"He made a lot of sense," Young grudgingly admitted. "He thinks Rush knew what would happen when he got back to Earth, so he's using this whole parasite thing as a cyanide pill."

Tamara could feel her skin crawling. "Which, if that's the case, implies that he knows he's guilty."

"Exactly."

She thought back to her conversation with Rush on that very first day. "I asked him point blank why he did it. He just said it was for the greater good."

"Typical. That man wouldn't give a straight answer if his life depended on it."

She crossed her arms and tilted her head. "I think at this point his life depends on him  _not_  giving a straight answer."

Colonel Young nodded. "His reputation, anyway."

"Yeah."

He sighed. "We'll never know unless he tells us. And we know he won't."

"Right," said Tamara. "So why bother worrying?" Quite frankly, she didn't want to think it was true. She rejected the idea entirely, refusing the consider any possibility that Rush could be thinking only of himself at a time like this. He would have faced penalties for sure, if found guilty - termination from SGC, blacklisting from every academic institution, possible prison time, lawsuits, not to mention the humiliation that came with the loss of his reputation coupled with the knowledge that everyone who had lost someone because of him would want him locked away forever. But was  _death_  really better? For someone with an ego as big as Rush's, it was possible. But she did not want to believe it was true. If it was true, then her guilt was greater than she thought.

In answer to the colonel's original question, she shook her head. "No. I think he's being a good man this time."

Young thought about that and nodded. He seemed eager to switch topics and gestured to the microscopes. "Any luck?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. Nothing at all. I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

He sighed. "T.J., he's prepared, you know. He's expecting it."

"I don't care."

"I'm just saying there's probably nothing you  _can_  do."

She shook her head. She hadn't planned on asking, but she knew she would hate herself forever if she didn't try. "What if we…what if we went back to the planet?"

He blinked at her, then frowned. "What planet?"

"The planet this organism came from. There has to be something there. Most ecosystems contain elements harmful and helpful to the living things in them, and obviously there's something out there that keeps this parasite in check."

The colonel sighed again. "We don't know anything about that planet."

"There were wild animals."

"We don't know anything about those animals. They might be naturally immune to this thing, like the bugs that carry it. There's no telling what is actually going on."

"And we'll never know unless we try," she insisted. "Can't we just give it a shot? We'll never know unless we go back there."

"T.J., we're two and a half weeks out from that planet. If we turn around now and go back, it will double our time left to get home. Do you even know how long it would take to find a cure there?"

"No," she grudgingly admitted, "but wouldn't it be worth it if we could double Rush's lifespan? These people have waited five years. Do you really think they'd mind waiting an additional five weeks?"

The colonel hesitated. "For anyone else, probably not. For Rush…"

Tamara balled her fists in anger. "This isn't fair! He has done so much for these ingrates, and they can't even-"

"Whoa, T.J., stop," Colonel Young said. He took her by the arms to calm her. "Listen to me. Do not tell any of them about this conversation, do you hear me? It isn't their fault. We can't go back partly because of that, yes, but also think about this: We're all at risk of re-infection, right? What happens if we get there, and more people get bitten, and we find out there is no cure?"

"But what if there is?" she insisted. "There has to be!"

"But what if there  _isn't_? We'll lose more than just Rush. I cannot take that risk."

She glared at him, commanding officer or no. "Are you saying this because it's Rush?"

He let her go. "What?"

"Would you still be saying this if it was anyone else? What if it was Eli who was dying? What if it was Chloe? What if it was me? What if it was anyone else who had someone on Earth that you had to answer to? Wouldn't you be doing everything you could to save them?"

Young went silent. Whether that was an admission or not she didn't know, but her weariness and despair caught up with her and she collapsed into the chair. "You know," Young said at last, "I could be asking you the same thing."

She turned and frowned at him. "What?"

"Would you be fighting so hard if it was anyone else? What if it was just another civilian? What if it was a stranger? What if it was Brody, or Dunning, or someone else who  _hadn't_  saved your life? Would you be willing to put the entire ship in danger to save them?"

She jumped up from her chair, sending it rolling backward into the wall. "That is irrelevant!"

"Not really. Emotions are powerful things, Lieutenant."

She gaped at his use of her title. What was happening to them? How did it come to this? "Get out."

"Lieutenant-"

"Get out of my infirmary."

With another sigh, the colonel obeyed. When she was alone again, she dropped back into her chair and closed her eyes to regain her focus. But all she could see was Rush. The colonel's words grew in her skull, squeezing out all other thoughts. Was this all really by design? Was it Rush's way of escaping the ramifications of all his mistakes? Was he just playing them?

Would he still have given her his vaccine if they  _weren't_  on their way back to Earth?


	10. Chapter 10

"It's fascinating to me how people can say so much by saying so little."

_I hate you._

"It's been a couple of days since Colonel Young told the ship about my situation. I've interacted with people I forgot were even here in that time."

_I wish I'd never met you._

"And so far no one, not one person, has told me I made the wrong decision. They're all glad it's me instead of her."

_You ruined my life._

"And so are you."

She looked over to find him watching her. Daring her to contradict him. Or perhaps begging her to. Chloe swallowed hard and looked away again. "You should have never dialed the ninth chevron."

In her peripheral vision he moved, and she glanced over again. He was staring far away, beyond the walls and circuits and wires, shaking his head. Did he look sad? Maybe he was just reflecting. Thinking, cold and calculating like he always was. Stating facts. No emotion. That was it.

"So," he said quietly, and everything she had just decided was contravened, "we're back to this again, are we? What are you angry about this time?"

Oh, but she could wring his neck. "Nothing."

He snorted, obviously catching her insinuative tone. "Then I suppose it's the thought of going home that has you so annoyed. I do know how much you love this ship."

"No one loves this ship except you," she said hotly.

He faced her and smiled darkly. "That's incredibly clear."

"Don't," she said. "Don't start this again. Don't make me feel guilty about going home."

"How you feel is a result of your own decisions, not mine."

She wanted to slap him. "Look, I'm sorry that your life is so empty that this ship is the only thing you have to live for-"

"What?" He sounded sincerely offended. As if he could ever be sincere about anything.

"-but that isn't my fault. Okay? Do you think I  _wanted_  to disappoint you? Do you think I like it when you're mad at me? I know how much you love this ship. I know you blame me for taking it away from you, or taking you away from it, or whatever! You love  _Destiny_  more than anything. Or any _one_."

He glared at her in distaste.

She would not be intimidated. "I understand why you didn't want to go back home in the beginning, but I really don't know why you still don't. We have another chance now to get back to Earth and you still want to stay? I guess I kind of thought having friends and people you care about would make life back there a little more bearable but obviously I was wrong. I just hope all of this was worth it."

"It was," he said.

_I hate you._

He looked away, and she realized she'd said it aloud. But for some reason she couldn't make herself retract the words.

"And for what do you hate me?" he wanted to know. "For saving your life? For saving your lieutenant's life? For finding a planet that will bring you home again? For not sabotaging the ship and locking everyone out of the dialing programs? For throwing away my life's work and totally abandoning  _the only thing I have to live for_?"

"I hate you for being so pathetic," she shot back.  _I hate you for being so heartbroken._  "I hate you for making me think you cared about me."  _I hate you for making me care._  "I hate you for bringing us here in the first place."  _I hate you for not coming home._

He didn't look surprised. He just nodded with a wry little smile. "That's quite a list of grievances, Miss Armstrong."

"I've got more."

He held up a hand. "No, no, don't bother. I believe you. I'm glad we got all that out in the open, though. I'd hate to die thinking that we had actually managed to move past all of my terrible crimes. What an awful delusion to take to my grave."

She jumped up from the console. "All right, as long as we're being honest, why don't we clear something else up too? I know why you gave T.J. your vaccine."

He stared blankly at her, but she could see him bristle. "Yeah, because I told you why."

"No, I mean the actual reason. I know you can't live without  _Destiny_.  _That's_  why you're not going home."

His face changed, twisting with confusion and not a little anger. "What?"

"Don't 'What?' me, Rush! You have made it very clear for the last five years that this ship is all that really matters to you! And you would rather die than leave! Like when you took your name out of the lottery when we first flew into the sun!"

He looked shocked. " _That's_  what you think this is about?!"

"I  _know_  it is! You don't care about anything else! And if that's how you feel, then fine, I'm  _glad_  you gave away your vaccine! Satisfied? I'm glad you didn't take it. At least that way you can die with the only thing in the universe that you really love!"

He threw his notebook down and pointed at the door. " _Out!_ Get out!"

She was already moving, and she stormed away, leaving him alone with his precious ship.

She went to the Mess and fell onto a bench, thanking Becker for the rations he handed her even though she wasn't hungry. All she wanted to do was cry. She curled her hand into a fist, slamming it onto the tabletop. People nearby jumped and stared, but a glare from her made them forget they saw anything. Suddenly, utterly overwhelmed, she felt like she was drowning, and she jumped up from her seat and fled for the exit, almost slamming into Eli.

"Whoa, sorry," said her friend, but a look at Chloe's face made him gasp. "Are you all right?"

Chloe tried to talk, but all that came out was a string of incoherent sobs that might have been words.

Eli put an arm around her shoulder. "Hey, come on, talk to me. Let's go to the deck."

Once there, Eli closed the door for privacy and had Chloe sit on one of the chairs. Chloe just sat for awhile, almost hysterical, feeling angry, feeling guilty about feeling angry, feeling confused about feeling guilty, feeling sad, feeling hurt, feeling tired. She wondered inanely if crying could cause dehydration.

"Chloe," Eli said gently, eventually. "What's wrong?"

Chloe furiously scrubbed at her face. "Rush is what's wrong!" she exclaimed. "He is such…such an idiot!"

That seemed to take Eli by surprise. "Why? What did he do?"

"Nothing!"

Now her friend frowned. "Then what's going on? Is everything okay? Did Rush say something?"

Chloe shook her head. Her mind was jumbled and her mouth was barely cooperating as it was without confusion getting in the way. "No, it's not that, it's just…why can't he just die already?"

Eli gaped at her with impossibly wide eyes. Something like anger flashed across his face. " _What_?"

It was a horrible thing to say, and she felt horrible saying it. "This is impossible! We know he's going to, so why doesn't he just get it over with? What is he waiting for?"

Eli's face was stone. "Chloe…"

"I'm serious! He keeps wanting to talk to me but he doesn't realize that I don't want to see him. He makes me so angry. I can't even look at him."

Eli looked totally baffled. "Why?"

Why, indeed? _Because I know that one day I'll look and he won't be there. Because I know how disappointed he is in me._

"Because I'm going to miss him so much," she said.

Eli frowned. "That makes no sense."

"I know."

"So, wait, is that why you yelled at him the other day?"

She nodded. It was so much easier to channel her grief as anger, because being angry hurt less than being sad. "I guess."

"That's stupid!"

She glared at him. "I didn't ask for your-"

She was interrupted by the static sound of Eli's radio coming to life.  _"Is anyone near the control room? This is Brody! I need help!"_

Chloe went cold. "The control room," she whispered. She looked in horror to Eli. "That's where I left Rush!"

"What?" he shouted. "You  _left_   _Rush_?!"

" _Brody, this is T.J. What's going on?"_

" _Something is wrong with Rush!"_ They could hear choking and desperate gasps in the background. _"I don't know what's happening, but he says he can't breathe!"_

" _I'm on my way!"_

Chloe leaped from her chair and raced for the exit. Eli was at her heels. Her eyes burned as she ran down the corridor, and quickly her vision was so blurry that she couldn't even see where she was going. She stopped, gasping, leaning against the wall and just trying to breathe.

"What are you doing?" Eli demanded. "Let's go!"

"I can't!" she said. She slid down the wall in despair. "I can't go in there!"

"Chloe!"

"I can't!"

He picked her up by the arm. "What's the matter with you? Come  _on_!" He practically dragged her along, and she stumbled blindly after him, her feet barely gripping the floor. Her mind was scrambling. All she could think about was Rush, and how sorry she was, and how stupid she was, and how she hoped he wouldn't be dead when she got there.

The control room was empty when they arrived. Chloe freaked, but Eli took her by the arm again and spun her around. "The infirmary!" he said, and they went together.

In total contrast to the control room, the hall to the infirmary was jammed with people. They were talking, shouting questions, shoving, jumping up to see inside, a mob unified by a mutual morbid fascination. Eli and Chloe tried ineffectually to elbow their way past.

" _Everyone, shut up!"_

That was Matt's voice. Now Chloe could see him, standing in the doorway, facing the crowd with his arms spread. Greer was at his side.

"All of you need to chill out, all right?" Matt said. "Back away from the infirmary. Everything's fine, there's nothing to see. Go about your day."

Amidst the murmurs of the swarm, Chloe felt her heart begin to beat again. Everything was fine?

"Come on, people, you heard the man," said Greer. "Show's over, let's give them some privacy. Move, move, move."

As the horde began to withdraw, Chloe felt Eli pulling her forward toward the door.

"That means you, Eli," Matt said.

"Matt, wait," Eli said. "I think Chloe needs to see Rush."

Matt turned his eyes to her, and she nodded furiously. He sighed. "Stand by." He slipped inside, and over Greer's shoulder Chloe watched him go to T.J., who was standing beside a bed. Colonel Young and Brody were at her side. Sitting on the bed was Rush, alive. She thought she might faint. She watched T.J. nod and look to her patient. Rush turned to glance at Chloe, hesitated, and then nodded also. Matt returned and nudged Greer to the side. "He'll see you."

The words were barely past his lips when she ducked inside and hurried to where Rush was sitting. He looked pale, a little sweaty, but not dead. She wasn't sure if she wanted to laugh or cry more. "What happened?"

He didn't answer her. He kept his eyes low and a little to the left, deliberately avoiding her direction.

"A panic attack," said T.J. "That was all. Very scary, but quite common and not life-threatening."

Rush snorted.

"Although it can make you feel like you're dying," the medic added.

Chloe watched Rush. He was still dodging her gaze, turning farther and farther away from her, his mouth a grim straight line. "Rush…"

"Chloe," T.J. interrupted, "can I see you for a minute?"

Chloe reluctantly followed her some distance away where they couldn't be overheard. T.J. crossed her arms over her chest, but it wasn't clear if she was angry or just casual.

"He told me about what happened in the control room," T.J. whispered. Shame warmed Chloe's face. "Is there something you need to talk about?"

She wanted to cry again. Her head hurt. Her stomach hurt. "I don't know what's wrong with me," she said. Remembering her words to Eli, she flinched. "I just…I'm so mad."

T.J. sighed. "We're all trying to deal with this. Everyone deals differently. I know that this is how you cope, but you need to find another way. Are you listening?"

Chloe sniffed and nodded.

"What you're doing is not helping anyone. You left him alone! If this had been something more serious than a panic attack, and if Brody hadn't found him…"

"Nothing would change," Chloe bit out, trying to cover a sob. "He is still dying. Whether now or later makes no difference."

T.J. looked mortified. "Chloe…"

"You know I'm right!" T.J. shushed her and she tried to lower her voice. "I wish it would just  _happen_. It's terrible to watch him go like this. Slowly. It's like just watching someone drown. It's too hard."

T.J. didn't respond right away. When she did, she asked, "Would you rather not have a chance to say goodbye?"

Chloe thought of her father, and she had no answer. She felt more hot tears spill out of her eyes.

"I know you're close," said T.J. softly. "I know this is hard. But you've already let him go in your heart even though he's still here. Be with him while you can, for both your sakes. I think he needs your strength as much as you need his."

That was truer than T.J. could possibly know. She suddenly felt very cold. Why was the infirmary always so cold? She hugged herself, nodding in response to T.J.'s advice, and turned to go back to Rush. To Colonel Young and Brody, she said, "Can you give us a second?"

They left the infirmary. Even T.J. kept a safe distance. Chloe sat on the bed at Rush's side, tears welling up again when he turned his face away from her. For a minute she sat in agonizing silence before reaching out and taking his hand. She could feel the heat of his fever - or maybe his anger - coming off his body in waves. He looked down at their entwined fingers but there was no other reaction. There was a memory there between them, and she wondered if he was thinking about it too.

" _The same dream?"_ Rush had asked one night in that same old way. It wasn't. It was a new one, where her father had taken the place of her mother, and instead of just standing outside of the tank and staring at her he somehow managed to rip off his own head and throw it against the glass. She'd woken up nearly screaming, fighting off poor Matt, who was trying to comfort her without injuring himself. She'd run from the room, thankfully still clothed, and found her way to the Mess. Rush asked his question without looking up. When he did, he rose from the bench at the sight of her while she collapsed onto hers in a heaving, hysterical mess. He came around and stood beside her.

"Chloe," he whispered. "What happened?"

"Nightmare," she barely got out.  _The skin on his neck stretched and snapped apart._  "My father…on the alien ship…"  _Dripping blood. Head hitting the glass._ She closed her eyes and bit back a shriek.

She felt Rush gently take one of her hands, then the other. "Chloe," he said softly. "Look at me."

She shook her head. _Blood splattering._ She whimpered.

"Open your eyes. Come on."

It took a colossal effort, but she managed to crack one eye open. Rush had knelt on the floor in front of her, gazing up at her intensely. She shuddered.

"Listen to me," she thought she saw him say, but all she heard was that horrible screech of the Nakai. She flinched and tried to pull away.

"You're on  _Destiny_ ," Rush said. His voice somehow reached her through the panicked haze of her mind. He squeezed her hands. "Listen to me! You're on  _Destiny_. Breathe."

She hadn't realized she'd stopped. She took a deep breath, let it out, and quivered again.

"You're on  _Destiny_ ," he repeated. She took notice how he was not saying she was  _safe_  on  _Destiny_. "Shh. Shhh."

She pulled her hands away and lurched forward, sliding off the bench and locking her arms around his neck for no reason other than that he was familiar, he was safe, and he was someone she knew wouldn't hurt her. She clutched whole fistfuls of his shirt in her fingers and hid her face in his hair. It was awhile before he held her back, his arms folding loosely across her shoulders.

There was no ticking clock to announce the passage of time. There was only silence, his breath in her ear, and his occasional, "Shhh." She continued to tremble, unable to close her eyes for fear of the memory. She just stared at nothing. Her vision was half blocked by his hair.

"Chloe," he whispered, and she felt him try to pull away, but she just held him tighter in her quaking arms.

"Not yet."

He went silent. She made him stay there on the mess hall floor for ages. He never complained and he never let go. By the end, his grip was as strong as hers and she could feel him shaking just as badly.

There in the infirmary, she could feel his arm trembling again through the hand she held. She longed to take him in her arms again. She missed him, missed the way they used to be, back when things were easier. Things were always hard, but they hadn't been this hard for a long time.

"I need to say something," she began, softly. "You're not going to want to hear it, but I need to say it, and you have to let me get through this. Okay?" No response. He just raised his head and stared out into the distance, as if resigned to the fact that she was going to talk. This she took as sufficient encouragement to continue. "I still blame you for dialing the ninth chevron. I still believe everything that's happened was your fault. But I forgave you."

He jerked his hand away. "Yeah, right." She sniffed and took it back.

"Don't shut me out, Rush. You need to listen to me." She had lost all command of her voice. "I didn't mean what I said earlier. I'm not glad gave your vaccine away. You mean more to me than most of the people on this ship, do you know that? I don't actually know what I'm going to do without you. You're the only one who could help me after the...the aliens. Only you." He looked away again, but the anger had retreated from his eyes. "You're my friend. You were always there when I needed you. And I haven't been there for you."

He snorted. "Yeah."

That made her wince. "I don't just mean today. I know you feel like I abandoned you, and I'm so, so sorry. I can't reconcile the me that chose to stay with the me that's choosing to go, but I never wanted to hurt you."

He dropped his eyes and sighed.

"But you abandoned me too," she said. She hung her head, tears falling to her lap. "You didn't talk to me for a month. Do you know how much that hurt? The last thing I wanted was to make you unhappy, and when I did you wouldn't even let me try to explain why. Like you didn't actually care about me, you only cared about what you could get from me."

He squeezed her hand and shook his head. "That's not true," he said hoarsely.

"I know," she said. "I knew it then. But now you've made the choice not to come home, and it feels like it's happening all over again. I hope it's not because you feel like everyone deserted you. I know you feel alone, but you're not. Please tell me that's not why you did this."

She couldn't live with that. If he told her that he had given up on life because no one supported him and the mission, she might kill herself. She could not bear that kind of guilt.

He shook his head. "I don't want to die, Chloe." He looked carefully at her. "But I'm sure your father didn't either."

There it was. That was his answer. Her eyes burned anew, and she bit down hard on her lip. That was nowhere near an answer. "Okay," she said, nodding.

But it wasn't okay. None of this was okay. She couldn't see how this could possibly be in the interest of the greater good, but she had to believe that he felt it was, even though she had been through this before and he was putting her through it all again. There was so much more she could have said, more about how it wasn't fair to the people who cared about him, how he should have warned her first, how he shouldn't have done it, how he should have thought of another way, how it didn't make sense for him to do this for someone who was dying anyway because now there were  _both_  going to die. But none of it would change anything. What was done was done, and it was too late to undo it.

"I don't hate you," she finally whispered.

After a minute, he swallowed. "I know, darling."

She laid her forehead on his shoulder. He squeezed her hand. Nothing else needed to be said.

—

It had been a long time since Nick felt safe in anyone's company. There were very few people left in the universe who made made him feel halfway secure, and none he felt he could trust with his whole self. Gloria had been the last. She, his amazing, wonderful wife, had held his body, his mind, and his heart in her strong and delicate hands, and she never abused the privilege. His days were more often than not fraught with dangers to his health, his mind, his money, his job, his reputation, and his marriage, but he always knew that she would be there waiting at the door to take him in her arms and tell him she loved him. He hadn't felt safe since she died. Now he had no refuge, no Gloria to come home to, to hold, to tell he loved her, to say they'd make it through this. The nights only brought emptiness, loneliness, and uncertainty.

Here on  _Destiny_  he had been forced to trust many of these people, though he knew he could never commit all the way. He trusted Lieutenant Johansen to care for his body, even though she worked under the orders of Colonel Young, because she was a kind and caring person who wouldn't hurt him on purpose. He trusted Eli with his mind because, although the kid was smarter than he was, he was still humble enough not to throw it in his face. He and Colonel Young had finally found a kind of comity and balance, and he had found himself looking to the colonel for protection more and more, but at the end of the day, Young was still the man who'd tried to kill him.

But then there was another. This little girl sitting at his side, holding his hand and crying. He found that he trusted her more than most. Their shared experience with the aliens had knit them together at the soul, and she had the closest thing to his complete trust that he was able to give. He knew she wouldn't hurt him physically (again). He knew she respected his mind. And somehow, she had his heart too, being the only person who could soothe it or shatter it. And that she had. From the moment she told him she was leaving, he hadn't been the same. Everything changed then. Everything. She, who was so much like him, who was different and wonderful and special and unique, had become just like everyone else. From that day they had been looking at each other as if through prison bars, able to see each other, hear each other, even touch, but never to be on the same side again. He wasn't sure which of them was the prisoner.

He was not in love with Chloe Armstrong. Such a thing at this point was beyond him for many reasons, but in a different way, he needed her. She was a friend, and still she was more. He could not forget the day her father died. He could still hear her frantic voice over Eli's radio begging him to open the shuttle door and Eli's despairing answer that there was nothing he could do. He remembered how small he felt. If there ever was a time he regretted dialing the ninth chevron, that was it. And afterward he had made some bungled apology and a promise, but he knew that she would always hate him. That was before her rejection of him really, truly mattered the way it did now, but looking back he realized that even then it stung.

_She has her father's eyes._

That was why _._ He allowed his mind to drift for a moment into the past. If she'd had her mother's eyes and her father's hair…no, she wouldn't have looked like Chloe. That was fine. He wanted to keep them separate from each other. Chloe was not a replacement. She was but a small glimpse into the life he could have had, but she was something special all her own, someone he couldn't categorize and someone he was perfectly happy to take as she was. To lose her meant to lose a part of himself, and he was losing a lot of himself lately. He needed her. But they'd grown apart, as he'd always known they would. It was inevitable. It happened with everyone, and he was long past being able to do anything to change that fact.  _The common denominator in all your dysfunctional relationships is you._  He knew it would happen, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt.

She'd left him. She wasn't physically gone, but her heart was no longer with him, so he'd taken his back. She could no longer be trusted with it. He knew that hurt her, but she shouldn't have expected anything different. He loved her in the best way he knew how (and he hadn't loved anyone in so long that he wasn't sure if he was even doing it right), but the truth was, she wasn't enough to make him want to leave. And he wasn't enough to make her want to stay. Both of them were fighting, asking for more than the other could give. It wasn't right, and it wasn't fair, and it fit in perfectly with every other misfit element of their relationship, so he could do nothing but allow it just to  _be_. It was by no means a perfect love on either side, but it was real, and it was everything that they were capable of. They weren't enough. And that was enough.

"Do you still have nightmares?" she asked unexpectedly, startling him in the quiet.

He shook his head. "No. Not for some time now."

He could  _feel_  her smile even though her face was hidden. "Me neither. I'm glad."

He squeezed her hand and kissed her hair, and she hooked her arm through his and clung to it.

"I wish you weren't leaving me," she said softly.

He put his arm around her, never letting go of her hand, holding her close and resting his head on hers. "So do I."

They would do their best.


	11. Chapter 11

"I don't even see the point of having an inquest." Everett was fuming. He paced in the communications lab, waving his arms as he spoke. Telford had just arrived and delivered the news that Homeworld Command was insisting on continuing their plan, in spite of T.J.'s advice to let Rush be. Their excuse that she wasn't a psychologist or a "real" medical doctor sat with him all wrong. "They would need someone who knows math as well as he does, or better. Anyone they find is not going to be an impartial party. Everyone has an agenda! Whether they like him or not, anyone smarter than him can manipulate the data to reflect whatever they want it to and no one would ever know. It will never be solved."

"Why are you so upset about this?" Telford asked. He had switched with Scott this time, too paranoid to push his luck with Rush's body. "Why does it bother you so much?"

Everett threw him a look. "Because I care about the people under my command."

Telford stared at him, then sighed. "It's a formality," he said. "They have to do it to say they did."

"But who can they possibly find that will be able to solve that problem?"

"What about Wallace?"

Everett spun to him. "That was  _my_  idea. You said it was complicated."

"It  _is_  complicated. But you might be able to make it work."

"How?"

Telford shrugged. "I don't know."

"Will they trust him?"

Telford made a twisted face. "Probably not."

Everett shook his head and began pacing again. "This is what I'm talking about. If Eli confirms Rush's theory that it would have been too dangerous, someone on the other side of the line is going to call bias. If any one of their scientists confirms it  _wouldn't_  have been too dangerous, someone on this side is going to call corruption."

Telford looked slightly bewildered. "This side? You mean you believe him?"

Everett paused. Had he just said that? He shrugged and waved his hand. "I don't know. I don't know what I believe. I know what I  _want_  to believe, and I wish I was smart enough to solve the problem myself, but I'm not. Eli might be, but unless he comes to the conclusion  _they_  want, they won't accept it."

"That's why it's complicated."

"Especially if Williams is involved. Isn't five years kind of a long time to hold a grudge?"

Telford shrugged again. "I don't know what to tell you, man. I told you there are a lot of unhappy people."

Everett snorted. "A lot of unhappy people with big guns and way too much time on their hands." He turned to Telford. "Why didn't you tell me sooner that this was going on? Why didn't you tell me that the President was there?"

Telford shook his head. "That part was need-to-know."

"You had to know Rush would tell me."

"We didn't expect him to back out. He signed a confidentiality agreement."

Everett had to laugh at that. "Fat lot of good that did you, huh? I bet it brought a lot of comfort to the Franklins and Mrs. Armstrong after Rush sold you out. Don't you people know better than to hire someone crazier than you?"

Telford just stood there listening grimly. "Yeah," he snapped. "It went over really well. The families are in a riot now, demanding actual answers, and they won't believe anything we tell them anymore, truth or not. He made a colossal mess of things."

"What can you expect when you tried to throw him under the bus first?"

"We also didn't expect him to get sick. If he hadn't agreed, we…" Telford sighed, looking uncomfortable. "They gave the order not to let him return to the ship."

Wait.  _Wait_. Everett's thoughts ground to a halt. "They were going to keep him on Earth?"

Telford looked genuinely unhappy. "Yeah."

"They were going to keep him off the ship unless he went along with their rotten little scam?"

Telford, having already answered that, simply stared.

Everett felt sweaty. Anger, frustration, confusion, all were making his blood sizzle. "This has got to be the most underhanded, twisted conspiracy the IOA has ever concocted! No one warned Rush about what he was getting into when he went down there. No one informed me of what I was sending him to. No one prepared him to be kept there for weeks! And why is SGC letting it happen?"

"SGC wants an answer just as much as the IOA," Telford said. "The President, remember? Our hands are tied, Everett. We need to know. The families need to know. It was the only way."

"Someone could have warned him! Or me! Why the secrecy? Why all the cloak and dagger? Why the ambush?"

Telford began rubbing his temples. "Because when you're trying to trap an enemy, you don't warn him in advance."

"So Rush is the enemy now, huh?" Everett said. If it wasn't Matthew's face he was looking at, he'd have slugged Telford then and there. "When did that happen? Need I remind you that he was the one who found this planet we're using to get home?"

"That's hardly a defense," Telford said. "Eli or someone else would have found it if he hadn't."

While that was true, Everett felt it was irrelevant. "Do you need a list of all the things that man has done for this crew while we've been here?"

"Do you need a list of all the things he's crapped up? It's his fault you're here in the first place!"

Everett was getting sick to death of that little detail. "I know that! But it's time we got past it, don't you think? How would you feel if someone kept throwing your mistakes in your face every other day? He does not need to be constantly reminded of what a screwup he is!"

"So what are you saying, then? That everyone has forgiven him, they're over it, you're all friends now?"

"Whether anyone has forgiven him is not up to me to say," Everett said. "But I can tell you that we have reached an understanding that although it is his fault we were stranded here, it's not his fault that we're  _still_  stranded here, and it's time we stopped punishing him for it."

Telford raised his hands placatingly. "Look, Everett, I hear you loud and clear. I understand what you're going through, what he's up against, and I understand that you're upset. I see it. But you need to realize that I'm not against you here. I'm just telling you what SGC and the IOA are going to tell you. I'm trying to prepare you for when they come."

"They cannot come," he said through gritted teeth. "I do not want them on this ship."

"I can't stop them. They'll be here in a matter of days, after they get the committee together."

"Why now?" Everett raged, pacing again. "They've known we're on our way back for four months! What is the big urgency all of a sudden?"

"They're in damage control," Telford said. "Somebody blew the cover story."

He spun to him. " _What?!_ "

Telford crossed his arms and leaned against the table. "Word got out about what really happened on Icarus. We don't know who, and we don't know when, but someone talked to someone they weren't supposed to and the whole thing got blown wide open. We only just found out about it a month ago. Needless to say, the families are furious. We're getting hit with a new lawsuit every day."

Everett couldn't even pace anymore. He just stood stupidly, unable to string a complete sentence together. What a disaster. More than that. A walking, talking nightmare. "I don't believe this," he managed to get out.

"They're threatening to pull the funding for the next team," Telford went on. "If something isn't done soon, this will be  _Destiny_ 's last stop forever."

"Well, that explains why  _you're_  trying so hard," Everett snapped, and Telford just scowled at him. He raked a hand through his hair. "Any suspects?" When Telford just looked at him with a raised brow, Everett shook his head. "Uh-uh! No way. He wouldn't do that."

"I know that, and you know that. But good luck convincing them."

"This is ludicrous! He's hardly even used the stones. He hasn't touched them since we got out of stasis. When would he have possibly done it?"

Telford just shook his head. "I have no answer. But that doesn't mean they can't make one up."

"It has to be someone else! Someone in the Lucian Alliance, maybe. They're trying to get  _Destiny_  for themselves. If they know a PR disaster would end SGC's involvement with the ninth chevron project, or even just suspend it for awhile, what's to stop them from swooping in and taking the ship?"

Telford shrugged. "Nothing."

"You're right, nothing! What are they thinking?"

"This is what I'm saying, Everett. It's really, really complicated. It's so far beyond complicated."

FUBAR, Everett thought. "So let me get this straight. Some anonymous person blabs about the Alliance attack on Icarus and ruins the whole cover we had going. Word gets around and people find out their family members are trapped on a ship a million lifetimes from home, so they start slapping lawsuits to SGC and the IOA all over the place. And SGC's first thought is to blame Rush?"

"He dialed the ninth chevron," Telford said plainly. "It starts and ends with him."

"So SGC made him a deal that if he admitted responsibility for the whole thing, they would let him go away peacefully and spare him all the legal trouble."

"Essentially, yes."

"And just how would admitting fault protect him from litigation?"

Telford curled the side of his mouth. "Presidential pardon? They didn't really explain that part to me."

"Like the families would accept that."

Telford shrugged.

"David, you have seen and felt what Rush is going through. Why isn't that enough?"

Telford shook his head wearily. "It's not up to me. I've done what I can."

"You need to help me," Everett told him flat-out. "You need to convince them to drop this whole thing."

"I can't," David said. "I've got-"

"Orders?"

Telford stared at him. Everett watched him, almost glaring at him. "How would you even expect me to do that?"

"However you can. I don't care. This is wrong and you know it. Talk to Strom, talk to O'Neill, talk to the freaking President for all I care. Just fix it. You owe us."

Telford coughed. "I don't owe Rush anything."

"Actually yeah, you do. It was because of him that we got you out of the Alliance, remember?"

"Hardly. He just did it to stop me."

"So? It worked, didn't it? And you owe me, too. I saved your life."

"You suffocated me."

"And brought you back. You know why? Because I'm your friend. Now be a friend and help me this time." Then he pushed a little harder. "You're the one who said you were trying to ensure justice. Is this your definition of justice?"

Telford stared silently for a very long time at the floor. Thinking again.

"You're a good man, David," Everett added quietly. "Do the right thing."

Telford said nothing. Then he let out a long breath, and when he looked back up at him, he knew he had him. "All right. Fine. I'll  _try_ , okay? But I can't promise anything. And I'm not doing this for Rush."

"I don't care who you're not doing it for. What do we do?"

Telford said, "Let's talk to Wallace. If he can get something done on it before they get here, there might be a better chance of a favorable outcome."

"Or they might just disregard his findings completely."

"Or that."

—

"Me?" Eli said incredulously. "You want me to testify against Doctor Rush?"

"No, no," said Colonel Young, while Telford said nothing. "We just want you to be honest in what you find."

Eli was not convinced. "Why are you asking me?"

"Because you're smarter than he is. You can tell us whether or not he could have safely dialed Earth from Icarus."

Eli really had to think about that. "I don't know, that's a lot of really complicated math. A lot of variables and unknowns. Do you have any idea how complex wormholes are? It's gonna take some time."

"You have seven days."

Eli laughed without a shred of humor. "Seven days! Right, when it took me a month to solve the stupid video game puzzle?!"

"Do what you can," Young said. "For Rush."

Mention of his mentor sent Eli quiet again. He rubbed his palm over his eyes and sighed. "What will happen if the answer is not in his favor?"

"That will be decided at the inquest."

"His reputation is the only thing that's really on the line here," said Telford. He proceeded, cautiously, "Since he won't actually make it back to Earth, he doesn't have to worry about any real repercussions. It's just his name."

"And his assets, pending the result of possible lawsuits from the Franklins and the Armstrongs," added Colonel Young.

Eli shook his head. This was too much. All he could think to say was, "Chloe wouldn't sue him."

"That doesn't matter. People demand that someone be held responsible in cases like this. We're just trying to figure out if Rush really is responsible."

"Why isn't anyone suing you?" Eli turned to Telford bitterly. "If not for your intel, the Lucians never would have attacked Icarus in the first place." Telford glanced to Young, speechless. Eli felt a twisted satisfaction at the look of complete astonishment on Scott's face. "I'll do it," he finally agreed. "But I'm only doing this for Rush."

Young got a strange little smile, the meaning of which eluded him. "That's all we ask," the colonel said, and he took Telford by the arm and led him away.

—

_What is this place?_

Nick stopped walking. He was in a part of the ship he didn't recognize. A long corridor, curving around corners at both ends, and he was walking into it from an intersecting hallway. Had he been here before? He couldn't recall. He looked to the left, and then to the right, unable to decide which way he should go. Maybe he should turn around…but when he did, he realized he couldn't remember where he was coming from either. His heart thudded strangely, and he stood immobile for a moment while he tried to gain his bearings. What had he just done? What had he planned on doing next? Why couldn't he remember?

"Rush?"

The voice startled him and he turned to see a kind-faced blonde woman coming his way. She looked concerned. He felt himself relax; he knew her face. "Lieutenant Johansen."

"Are you okay?" she asked him.

"Fine, fine." His automatic response. He knew she wasn't convinced, especially when he kept looking around. "Um," he said, turning to her again. "I appear to be lost."

Her face gained a look of worry before she smiled. "Okay. Well, you're in the corridor between the mess hall and the infirmary."

He frowned. He had no idea what he would be doing there.

"Do you know where you were trying to go?"

He looked all the way to the right and then all the way to the left, then back at her. He shook his head. "No."

She kept the smile, but her eyes didn't lie. She was scared. That scared him. His heart pounded again and he could feel his breathing quicken. "Hey," she said softly, stepping up to his side. "It's okay. Don't panic. Why are you alone? Who was with you?"

He thought very hard, searching his mind for an answer. "I…I dunno. I remember sitting in the infirmary with Chloe."

She nodded patiently. "That was over an hour ago. Who was with you after that?"

He pondered again. It made his head hurt. "A woman. Dark hair. Oh," he realized suddenly. "Lieutenant James."

The lieutenant smiled again and brought a radio up to her mouth. "Vanessa, where are you?"

" _T.J.? I'm on my way to you right now."_ She sounded out of breath.

"I've got Rush here."

Silence. Then:  _"Oh, thank you! I'm almost there."_

Johansen smiled again at him. "She'll be here in a second. What happened?"

He shrugged. He didn't know.

Lieutenant James came running down the hallway at that moment, stopping and breathing hard at his side, her dark hair falling over her shoulder. "Doctor Rush," she said, panting. "Please don't do that again!"

"What did I do?" he genuinely wanted to know.

James looked at Johansen. "I swear, I left him outside the bathroom for two minutes, and when I came back he was gone. I've been looking for him for fifteen minutes. I was panicking!"

Johansen just nodded. "Well, here he is, safe and sound. He just got a little bit…" She glanced at him. "…Confused." Looking back at James, she asked, "Why didn't you radio him?"

"He lost his radio," James said.

He nodded. He hadn't seen his radio in days. It wasn't supposed to matter because apparently he was supposed to be followed everywhere he went and everyone who followed him was supposed to have one. He wasn't supposed to wander off.

Johansen, for her part, seemed unconcerned. "Well, it's all good now. I leave him in your capable hands."

James looked relieved, giving a gentle look to Nick. For some reason, the look made him slightly angry. They were treating him like a child. Or like a dementia patient. He was neither; he was a scientist, and he did not need to be babysat. But when he thought about stalking off by himself, it brought a fresh wave of anxiety. Maybe some company wasn't a terrible idea.

"So," James said. "Where do you want to go?"

Bless her, he didn't know. He shrugged. James looked at where they were, and he noticed that Johansen hadn't left. She was just watching them silently. Watching him.

"Well, if you're hungry we can go eat, if you're tired we can go sleep, if you have work to do…"

He thought about all those things. Finally he gave up. "I don't know."

"Okay," said James patiently. She began walking. "Let's go this way and see what we find."

He followed, glancing over his shoulder once more at the kind blonde woman who had found him. She looked like she was trying to hide how scared she was behind a fake plastic smile. He preferred her real smile. It was less frightening.

—

Eli had been rendered completely unable to focus after the colonels left the control room. He gave up on whatever it was he was trying to do - he couldn't even  _remember_  what he was working on, let alone concentrate on it - and decided maybe some food would help. It was out of hours for ration distribution, but Becker was always prepared for stragglers and people who lost track of time. Eli took his bowl and plunked down at a table, scowling inwardly when Telford appeared out of nowhere and pounced into the seat next to him like a cat on a kill. He had his own bowl, but he wasn't eating out of it. Just a prop, Eli thought. He was surprised Telford wanted to be anywhere within twenty feet of him after his attitude, but maybe this was a testament to the man's discipline. He obviously wasn't going anywhere. And neither was Eli. He wanted food.

"Hey," Telford said softly. And not unkindly.

Eli shoved a spoonful into his mouth. "Hey."

"I saw your mom yesterday."

Eli's gut twisted so tight that he thought he might throw up. Telford really knew how to get someone's attention, didn't he? He turned his head. "How is she?"

Telford paused, seeming to be choosing his words. "She's hanging in there."

That comfort allowed Eli to get his food down. He'd been hysterically afraid that his mom wouldn't be there when he got back. Every day was a trial.

"She misses you."

"I miss her too."

"It must make you pretty mad, being stuck all the way out here, away from her for so long," Telford mused.

Eli snorted. He thought it was pretty obvious that he was mad.

"You know, nobody would blame you for feeling a little resentment toward Rush for trapping you guys in this place."

Eli shot him a look. "I know what you're doing. You want me to turn on Rush so that I'll make him look bad at the inquest."

Telford sighed. "Would you believe me if I told you that's not what I'm doing?"

No. "Then what  _are_  you doing?"

"I'm only trying to get you to be honest. If you can't be honest with yourself, then you can't be honest with the rest of us. All that matters is the truth."

Eli stared at him. "I already said I would do it."

"I know. I just want to make sure."

He frowned. "You never liked Rush."

"Neither did you."

He scowled.

Telford sighed. "Look, you're right. The man has been a pain in the neck since the start of the Icarus project, but things tend to get put into perspective when you find out someone is dying. He's still human. And besides, I owe someone a favor." He got up and left the table before Eli could reply.

Eli sulked gloomily, stirring his bowl without seeing it. He wanted his mother. He missed her laugh, her hugs, her schnitzel. He wanted to hug her and see her smile and tell her he loved her. Five weeks seemed like such a  _long time_  all of a sudden.

Just then Vanessa James was walking up with Rush at her side. "Shift change," she said, and left her charge at the table. Rush sat beside Eli with a bowl of rations.

"Hey," Eli greeted him. He noticed a small plastic container on the tray by Rush's bowl. "What's that?"

Rush picked up his spoon. "Pain relievers. Apparently I can't tell the difference between feeling tired and feeling hungry anymore."

Whatever that meant. Eli frowned but said nothing, just watching as Rush slowly took a bite. His hand trembled. He looked extra tired today, and he kept rubbing his shoulder. Eli wanted to ask what was going on in his head. Telford's visit had muddled him. He didn't want to participate in this inquest, even in the background. He didn't want to put Rush or his reputation in danger. He didn't want to do anything. He just wanted to go home and sleep. None of this was fair.

"Eli," Rush said, and Eli realized he was staring. He shook himself.

"Sorry. My mind wandered off."

Rush didn't answer.

Eli wanted to ask if he was okay, but simultaneously he knew that would be absurd. "I wish this wasn't happening," he finally confessed instead.

Rush turned to look at him. "What wasn't?"

Eli swallowed, hard. "This. You. I wish…I so wish you were going to…" Crap, not the tears again. He had to stop to compose himself. This was hard.

Rush sighed and nodded. "I know."

"I keep thinking," Eli said. "I keep trying to find someone to blame. I keep trying to figure out what we could have done differently. Who we can hold responsible." He laughed, a nervous habit of his whenever he felt himself getting too serious. It didn't help.

Rush shrugged. "Well, this wouldn't be happening if someone hadn't stolen Lieutenant Johansen's dose of the vaccine." He tapped his spoon absently against the rim of his bowl. "Or if Lieutenant James hadn't insisted on staying five extra minutes on that planet. Or if you had taken more of the vials of the alien venom into the stasis pod." He threw a soft glance Eli's way, and despite his suspicion that it was to assuage his guilt, Eli still felt guilty. "Or…" Rush paused to take a long breath. "If I hadn't dialed the ninth chevron in the first place. If the Lucian Alliance hadn't attacked Icarus Base. If Telford hadn't allowed himself to be brainwashed." He shook his head. "You can put blame wherever you want, nothing changes."

Eli stabbed his spoon into his rations. It stood up like a barren flagpole. "They're trying to blame you, you know. For stranding us here on  _Destiny_."

Rush nodded. "Yeah, I know."

"They asked me to try to solve that little problem one way or the other."

"I'm sure. I saw you talking to Telford."

"I'm going to try to prove them wrong."

Rush shook his head and pushed his bowl away. "I appreciate the thought, Eli, but…I wish you wouldn't. Science is about going where the evidence leads, even if it's not where you want or what you thought. You won't be doing anybody any favors with bias. Just follow the evidence."

Eli studied his friend. The sage advice of great men. "All right. I will."

They were quiet then, and Eli refocused on his meal, until a choking, watery sound caught his attention and he turned to see Rush puking over the side of the bench.

"Oh, whoa!" By instinct Eli put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, you okay?"

Dumb question, and Rush only curled forward, clutching his stomach, groaning softly.

Eli grabbed his radio from his belt. "T.J., this is Eli. Uh…Rush just got sick again."

" _What does it look like?"_

Um, ew. "What?"

There was a pause. _"Where are you?"_

"The mess hall."

" _On my way."_

He put the radio on the table and suddenly didn't know what to do. Rush was breathing hard with his eyes tightly shut, holding his head. "Rush…"

Rush turned his head away and curled tighter, but managed to stay in control. He set his forehead on the tabletop with a very soft whimper.

Eli did not like quiet. He didn't do well with quiet. Plus he was anxious, and being anxious only made the quiet seem so much quieter. "You okay?"

Rush extended a hand toward him but kept his face away. "Eli, for the love of all things, please stop talking."

He wrung his hands instead.

When T.J. got there she seemed pleased that Rush had vomited food this time instead of blood. Whatever that meant, it might have been good. She crouched at his side and held a hand to his forehead.

"Fever," she diagnosed. "Rush? Can you look at me?"

Rush shook his head and kept his eyes shut.

"You know," said Eli, "you gotta stop getting sick in here. People have a hard enough time keeping this stuff down as it is."

As if to defy him, Rush bent over and threw up again.

"Eli," T.J. scolded him, standing. "We need to take him to the infirmary. Come on, Rush."

She took him by one arm while Eli took the other, and they made their way. Colonels Young and Telford were already there waiting, probably having heard over the radio.

"What happened?" asked Young.

"He got sick again," T.J. said as Eli helped Rush sit on the bed, where he hunched over. "Biohazard in the mess hall."

"I'll get someone on it," Young muttered absently. Eli was watching Telford, who was just standing there silently, staring at Rush and shaking his head.

Rush leaned over and vomited again. Blood this time. He curled forward, hugging himself, and let out a groan.

"Rush?" T.J. said.

He took a breath and started to shake. "What's happening?" he asked through gritted teeth. "Why does it hurt?"

"Rush," T.J. said, and Eli could see the worry written all over her face.

He lifted his head. There was something wrong with his eyes. He looked round at them all but didn't appear to see them. "Where am I?"

Eli felt a tremor. "What?"

Rush turned and stared at him. He looked frightened, then blinked. "Eli."

Relief hit him like a wave. "Yeah, yeah, Eli. Are you okay?"

"Eli, what's happening?"

Eli wasn't trained for this. He felt a swell of panic in his belly but he tried to keep himself steady for Rush's sake. He knew he was failing. "Y-you're on  _Destiny_."

" _Destiny_?"

"The ship…"

"Huh?"

T.J. leaned down and put a hand on his shoulder. "Rush."

Rush closed his eyes and hunched forward again. "Lieutenant, help me, make it stop…"

"Where are your painkillers?" she asked.

Rush looked at her. "What?"

"What painkillers?" Eli asked.

"A couple of hours ago I gave him a bottle of pain relievers-"

"Oh!" Eli said, remembering. "He left it in the Mess."

"That's okay, I have some more here." While T.J. began rummaging through some shelves, Eli peeked at Colonel Telford again. Scott had a more expressive face than Telford did, and Eli thought he looked pretty freaked out. Young had begun to pace. "Here we go," said T.J. softly. She crouched in front of Rush and uncapped the medicine, allowing him to administer it to himself. It felt like an hour before his rigid muscles loosened and he was able to release the grip he had on himself. Finally, he laid back on the bed.

"Hey," T.J. said, standing and facing the three men. "Why don't you guys give us a little privacy?"

They filed out silently. Eli was so wrapped up in his own mind that he wouldn't have noticed how Telford stumbled into the wall, except that he was suddenly looking at Young and saying, "Colonel?"

Young frowned. "Matthew?"

—

"Sir," Scott said as they went along, "they want to see Rush right away."

"Absolutely not," Everett said. "If they want to talk, they can come here and do it."

"Sir, there is some really funky stuff going on down there. They were talking about investigations and juries…" He lowered his voice, even though Eli was the only one around. "The President was there."

"I know." Oh, did he know.

"What the heck is happening?"

"What did they tell you?" That might be easier.

"Well," Scott said, "not much, but I got the impression that they're not too happy with Rush."

"No, they're not."

"They said they'd give him a second chance, whatever that means. It sounds like they don't believe he's even sick. They think he's just avoiding them."

Everett snorted. "Well, while I'm sure Rush would give his left arm to occupy a genuinely healthy body again, I'm not sure any of their people could tolerate what he's going through."

"That's what I said."

Everett stopped and stared at him. Scott kept going for one step before turning back and returning the gaze with slightly raised eyebrows. "You didn't."

"I did," Matthew said. "Bright shiny new reprimand in my file now."

"Matthew…"

"It's okay, sir. It has to be done. They can't keep jerking people around like this."

Everett sighed. "That may be true, but I would rather you not get involved in this mess. We're going home. We don't need a bunch of legal trouble when we get there."

"I understand, sir, but I couldn't in good conscience let them think Rush is just pulling one over on them."

"And I can't exactly let my subordinate show me up in a contest of guts. Let's go."

They changed course, heading for the communications lab. Eli split off from them and continued in the direction of the mess hall. While they walked, Scott kept fidgeting like there was something he wanted to say. Or ask.

"What's up, Lieutenant?"

"Sir?"

"You're jittery. What's going on?"

Scott scratched his head. "Oh, nothing. Just…I don't like any of this. What happened to Rush just now?"

Everett sighed. "He got sick again. Which reminds me, I've gotta get someone on that." He pulled his radio from his belt and called up Varro.

" _Yes, Colonel?"_

"I need you to do something for me, Varro. There's a biohazard in the mess hall."

" _I heard, Colonel. It looks like Eli is already on it."_

Everett paused. Eli? "He's taking care of it?"

" _Yes, sir."_

Everett sighed. One in two million, that kid. "All right, thanks." Radio replaced, he kept going, a little slower than before.

"He's really going to miss him," Scott said softly. "They make weird friends, but you can tell. Eli looks up to him."

"Yeah," Everett said. "And in his own weird way, Rush tries to encourage him. I'd have liked to see them working together on something a little less…high profile. It would be fascinating."

Scott snorted and smiled. "Yeah, no kiddin'."

They reached the communications lab. Everett sat and looked up at Scott. "Keep tabs on whoever comes through. I want to know exactly what they do and what they say. Use a kino if you have to."

"Yes, sir."

Everett placed his stone on the plate and took a deep breath like he expected to come out under water on the other side.

He didn't. He came through in the body of Doctor Williams. Carl Strom and Telford were standing over him.

"Doctor Rush?" asked Strom.

Let the game begin.

—

After Tamara examined Rush and concluded that he had suffered another attack, the exact nature of which still eluded her, she determined that he was stable for the moment and let him decide if he wanted to stay or go. She opened up her inventory files and began a review, wishing they had encountered a civilization with actual hospitals. She was in sore need of pretty much everything. Varro came and went, dropping by a load of freshly cleaned and dried bandages, earning a profound smile of gratitude. She'd almost -  _almost_  - forgotten Rush was there when he spoke again, his soft voice cutting through the quiet.

"Lieutenant, I wonder if you might be able to help me."

She closed the file and turned to him, answering almost too eagerly, "Of course. Anything."

He reached up and rubbed the back of his shoulder. "I have this ache back here. I don't have the proper angle. I was hoping you could…"

"Oh, sure, sure." She came around and stood behind him, placed her hands on his shoulders, and gently began kneading the muscles with her thumbs. He dropped his head forward with a sigh. "You're too tense," she said lamely, and she regretted it at once.  _Of course he's tense, you idiot! He's dying!_

But Rush just chuckled. "My wife used to say the same thing. I was married once. Did I ever tell you that?"

She couldn't think of any context in which he would ever have told her that, but she did recall him wearing a wedding band in the past. She glanced at his left hand, but he no longer wore the ring. She wondered what had happened to it. "I thought as much," she said. "What was her name?"

He said it softly with such love: "Gloria."

"That's pretty."

"She was beautiful."

Tamara knew enough that asking about his wife's departure would be a mistake. She went a different way, and without even thinking she asked, "Any kids?"

He was quiet for a few moments. She kept rubbing, trying to think of a different question, but then he said, "Almost."

Her hands stilled, long enough for him to notice. He turned up to look at her. She could think of nothing to say, unwilling to question that answer, but unable to think of another subject.

"Miscarriage," he said softly, finally. "A side effect of her treatment. She never wanted to try again after that."

Tamara almost staggered, thinking of her own baby. She felt sick all over again with shock, emptiness, the agony, her arms aching for her child. She understood Gloria's pain and she knew it was a hurt that never really went away. Suddenly, she was afraid she would cry. "Oh, Doctor Rush, I'm so sorry."

He shrugged, but she felt his muscles tighten again under her fingers. "It was a long time ago."

Even so. She had never known this about him, that he had carried this pain inside for as long as they'd known each other. She wished he'd told her sooner. They were quiet for awhile after that. Tamara moved up and down both sides of his neck, then came around to the front to work his shoulders.

"Rush," she said softly as she worked. He did not answer, except with his eyes, which told her he was listening. She ran her hands over the muscles in his arm and bit her lip. "I owe you an apology."

He frowned. "What for?"

Her eyes flicked involuntarily to the area on his chest where the scar would be, above his heart. "After we removed the alien transmitter, I didn't take as much care of you as I should have. I let you go back to work too soon."

He quirked a brow. "You released me from the infirmary."

"I know," she said uncertainly. "But you weren't really ready. I should have kept you for a couple more days."

Now he frowned. "All right…" he said skeptically.

"But I just…" She closed her eyes. "I didn't want to deal with you."

She felt him bristle again. "Lieutenant-"

"No, let me say it." She took a breath to regain control. "I was selfish. I was only thinking of how upset I was about the mutiny, and I was thinking about my baby, and I was thinking about the colonel, and I wasn't thinking about you. I ignored you and neglected you, and then I went and stayed for a month on that alien planet. It shouldn't have happened. I should have made sure you were all right."

"I  _was_  all right," he assured her, but she couldn't tell if he meant it.

She frowned at him. "No, you weren't. Brody and Park told me how you looked when you went back to work. Even Colonel Young said you looked awful. But you insisted on working and I didn't want to argue with you."

He shrugged. "It's what I do."

"And  _this_  is what  _I_  do. That's what I'm saying. I should have cared for you, my patient, before anything else. But I didn't. And I'm sorry."

She was trying not to cry, she really was, but it was too much to deal with all at once. Rush was frowning at her, squinting, as though trying to discern if she still would have been so weepy if he weren't dying. The thought made her feel worse. She sat beside him on the bed, holding one wrist to her eye to stem the tears, while he sat silently. Finally, he sighed.

"Tamara, you have a right, an obligation, to look after your own health and the health of your child. But would it make you feel better if I said I forgave you?"

She nodded and actually managed a small laugh, choosing to ignore the flitter of delight that he had used her first name. Calling attention to it would just embarrass him. "Yeah, it would, actually."

Rush did not smile. He just nodded a little and kept his eyes low. Whispering, he said, "Then I forgive you."

She had never felt an urge to hug this man until now. Without even asking she just turned and swathed him in both her arms, pulling him in close. It didn't surprise her that he did not hug her back. It did surprise her that he placed a hesitant hand on her back and made soothing "shhh" sounds.

This was ridiculous. She was supposed to be trying to comfort him, to give him courage, and here he was comforting her. This was not going the way she'd planned. "I'm sorry," she whispered, and she drew herself away. "I had to tell you."

He nodded. Nothing more.

"Let's talk about something else, hmm?" she suggested.

He looked weary. "Actually, Lieutenant, if it's all the same I think I'd rather try to get some sleep. I'm quite tired just now."

She nodded and stood. "Of course. Just let me know whenever you need some medicinals, or even if you just want someone to talk to."

He gave a very small smile as he leaned back, probably just to indulge her, and tried to make himself comfortable on the bed. She laid a blanket over him and went to her work desk and opened her inventory file, scanning the counts for the blood thinners and painkillers. Looking at him above the pages, watching him lie there with his eyes closed and his hands folded on his stomach, she sat in her chair and silently cried.

—

"Your lieutenant was given very specific instructions to send Doctor Rush back."

Everett was completely fed up with this process. He had pretended to be Rush for the first few minutes of this visit, but one look at the equation they were pushing on him showed him how far out of his depth he was. He gave up the charade, and they did not take the news well. "With all due respect, General, I have advised against that again and again. Doctor Rush is very sick."

"So you say," said Strom.

"You shut up-"

"Colonel," O'Neill brought him back. "We need to see that for ourselves."

Everett snorted. "Well, if I'm right, Williams is about to see that. It would be very dangerous to send someone else into Rush's body. He could die at any moment."

"We still need-"

"Sir!" Everett bit out, and O'Neill fell into a surprised silence. "I've watched the man vomit blood and suffer a stroke. Believe me - he is  _very, very_  sick."

"Told you," Telford quipped.

"Your lieutenant was given a direct order," O'Neill said. He didn't sound angry, exactly. Frustrated, more like. Tired. "We've already reprimanded him once."

"So I heard. For the record, I agree with him wholeheartedly. Reprimand away."

O'Neill shook his head. "This is serious, Colonel."

"I understand that, sir. But so is Rush's condition. Having anyone swap with him is dangerous and reckless. I'm sure Mr. Williams is learning that as we speak. And while we're on this subject, I think bringing the inquest to  _Destiny_  is a very bad idea."

"So we heard," Strom gibed, looking at Telford, who frowned.

"And yet you insist on doing it."

Strom just shrugged. "It has to be done."

"Does it? Why can't it wait until we're home?"

"You said Rush wasn't coming home."

"He isn't. So why bother doing it at all?"

"Look," Strom said, folding his hands on the table and leaning forward like a seedy salesman, "we're being quite generous to him. We always have. We've given him many chances, and he will even have the opportunity to speak for himself at the inquest. I think it's more than fair."

"I don't care what you think," Everett said before he could stop himself. "It's still pointless."

General O'Neill, unbothered by Everett's behavior, just looked at Strom and shrugged. "There it is. Not sure what else you need to know."

"I'd like Doctor Williams's opinion," Strom said stiffly.

Everett didn't care two bits for Williams's opinion, either. "May I go?"

O'Neill waved his permission. Everett wished there was a way to sever the stone's connection in a more effectual way, but he had to settle for just turning off the machine. He found himself outside  _Destiny's_  infirmary with T.J., who was staring at him with the most horrified expression.

"T.J.," he said, to let her know it was him again. She gasped.

"Colonel?"

"Yes. What was happening?"

She looked so angry. Tears were rimming her reddened eyes, but he couldn't tell if they were tears of fury or of sadness. She had one fist clenched around a pencil, and he had a vision of her stabbing it into his eye. He looked over her shoulder and could see Rush on one of the beds, leaning back, staring at the ceiling.

"T.J., what did Williams say?"

She cleared her anger from her throat. "He came to make sure Rush was sick," she said in disgust. "Like we all just made the whole thing up." She crossed her arms. "At first he was angry that he wasn't switched with Rush, so Matt brought him here to show what he'd be dealing with. You should have seen his face. Priceless."

She said it with such sorrow that it made his heart lurch. "Where is Scott?"

She jerked her head to the infirmary. Only then did Everett notice the young man sitting hunched in a chair at Rush's side, looking at him. Everett waved him out. T.J. took her hint to excuse herself and returned inside to her patient, and Matt came out to the hallway and leaned back against the wall.

"Lieutenant," Everett said. "What happened?"

Scott sighed. "Not much, sir."

"What did Williams say? Why is T.J. so upset?"

Scott looked toward the open infirmary door, a faraway look in his eyes. "He pretty much demanded to talk to Rush. T.J. refused him entry. He literally shoved her away." Everett's blood pressure piqued, and Matt must have noticed, because he raised his hands pacifically in the air. "Don't worry, we got that on a kino. But he didn't get too far because Rush chose that point to get sick again." The young man sighed. "T.J. thinks he's going to need a transfusion if this keeps up."

"Blood again?"

Scott nodded. "Yeah. It was pretty bad. Williams practically ran out of the room, and T.J. chased him."

Everett snorted. "I just hope he gives a faithful report to the rest of the IOA and the SGC." He doubted he would.

Scott snorted. "Yeah, right."

Everett sighed. There was nothing else to do. "Well, they are still insisting on bringing the inquest here. They'll be here in a week."

Scott released a breath and shook his head. "No compassion, huh?"

"Yeah." He looked back into the room. "Dismissed, Lieutenant."

Scott went away, and Everett lingered out in the hall, staring into the infirmary. T.J. sat at Rush's bedside, just watching him. Rush wasn't sleeping. Wasn't even trying. He was just staring up at the ceiling. But somehow, Everett knew he was seeing something far gone and far away, perhaps the past he would never have again, or the future that would never be.


	12. Chapter 12

_*Record*_

"Hey, Rush, it's Eli. Obviously. You can see me."

That was stupid. He deleted the file.

_*Record*_

"Hey, buddy."

Nope.

_*Record*_

"We need to talk."

Delete.

"Argh!" Why couldn't he get this right? He'd been at it all morning, trying to put something together to give to Rush, but somehow the words just weren't there. Why was it so hard?

_*Record*_

"Hey, Rush. Listen, um…I just want you to know that I meant what I said before that first time we were flying into a star. I'm not sorry you brought me here. It's been fun, and I'm really thankful that you roped me into it. I'm gonna miss you, man."

That was a little better. Kind of. Maybe. He kept that file, but it still didn't feel right. This wasn't a fare-thee-well, a happy-trails-and-good-luck-to-you, this was a conclusion. This was time ending, breath stopping, a heart stilling. This was a goodbye. And there was so much more he wanted to say.

 _So how come I'm not saying it?_  He chewed on his lip. That was the problem, wasn't it? He was saying things he didn't really care about and  _not_  saying things he really, really wanted to. He couldn't come up with any lies. He couldn't think of anything fake. He was keeping the truth inside.  _Why?_

Because truth hurts. There was a reason he was doing this on a kino and not in person. If he tried to tell Rush face-to-face how he felt, he probably wouldn't get through it, either because he would get too upset and be unable to finish, or Rush would interrupt him or send him away, or he'd lose his nerve and turn it into something else. He needed to not be intimidated by Rush's piercing eyes staring right back at him, and even though he knew his friend could just turn the kino off and not listen to the whole thing, he felt better knowing that his message would be intact regardless. Okay, try again…

_*Record*_

"All right, Rush. Look, I know when we started this whole thing you and I were kind of at each other's throats a lot. We got off to a bad start, and it didn't get better for a long time. You're an overbearing, unpredictable, manipulative control freak, with an ego the size of a blue supergiant. I know, I know, geek joke. But the point is...you have problems. You don't trust anyone and no one trusts you. You made these outrageous, terrible decisions that hurt people, put them into harm's way, caused them pain, got them killed. And you never seemed to care about the damage you were causing. You were cold, distant, and seemed completely empty of emotion or guilt. You just went along and left the feeling to everyone else."

—

Tamara woke up in the infirmary again, after falling asleep in the infirmary again. She sat up sore, with an aching back and a stiff neck, and she stretched her arms above her head, rolled her head from side to side, and twisted in her chair to work out all the kinks. Then she stood up to search out her patient, who should be sleeping in the bed where she'd left him.

Except he wasn't. The bed was empty, and the infirmary was quiet. Her watch said it was 0900, which meant it was after breakfast time. Man, she really must have been tired. She wondered as she reached for her radio if someone had come to take Rush to the mess hall, and she called up Lieutenant Scott.

" _What's up, T.J.?"_

"Have you seen Rush?"

A pause.  _"No, not today. Why?"_

Hmmm. "Okay, thanks." She summoned Vanessa. "Vaness, is Rush with you?"

" _No. I thought he was with you."_

"He was…" This might be bad. "Thanks." She wouldn't panic yet, but she went for the door.

—

"And yet...for all the yelling at you we did, all the arguing, all the pushback, how many times did we say, 'Rush is right'? A lot. You were usually right. Not all the time, but even when you were wrong, you were partly right. We could always count on you to make the decisions no one else wanted to make. And you were always so eager to do it. We needed someone like you. Maybe. I mean, you could have been a little nicer about it, but again, I guess if you let yourself feel too bad about what you were doing then you wouldn't do it. I think I understand it, though."

—

"Brody, seen Rush?" Tamara asked.

Brody looked confused. "Nope. Haven't seen him for a day or two, actually."

"Volker?"

Volker just shook his head.

She was already heading for the door. "Thanks." Where was he? Into her radio, she said, "Varro, where are you?"

—

"You always thought of a solution we all would have come up with ourselves, except you got there faster. It's not that you didn't feel. You just didn't feel for as long as we did. You moved on quicker and by the time you were ready to discuss plans and solutions we were still trying to get past the initial shock, so your timing felt heartless and cruel. But you weren't."

—

Now she was getting really worried. Varro had been in the mess hall since 0600 and said Rush had not been by. Chloe hadn't seen him and was now searching too. Tamara hadn't yet informed the colonel of the situation, but she was starting to wonder how much longer she could keep it quiet. It was a big ship, and Rush was starting to lose his mental faculties. He could get lost very easily. If he got sick while he was disoriented, he would be frightened, confused, possibly suffer another panic attack. Or he could straight up die somewhere in here, and if that happened, he'd die alone. The thought filled her with fear and spurred her feet toward the colonel's quarters.

—

"And what hits fast usually hits hard, so I'm willing to bet that in the short time you spent grieving, you went through the whole range of emotion all at one time, not gradually like the rest of us. You felt just as much, but faster, like this giant tsunami wave just came down on you at once, and when you broke the surface the rest of us were still just beginning to drown." Eli had to take a breath. He thumbed away a tear. "Anyway, I just want you to know that in spite of it all, you're still one of my favorite people on this ship. I still look up to you. I respect you. I'm really, really sorry I let you down. Thank you for getting us home. And I wish it hadn't turned out this way."

He saved the file and put the kino aside, covering his eyes with his hand. He didn't want to cry anymore. He didn't want to hurt anymore. He wished there was a way out, a way to wake up and find out that this was all a terrible nightmare. He would give anything to open his eyes and learn that they'd been in stasis this whole time and it had all been a dream, no one was dying, everything was all right. He would even give up the Icarus planet if that's what it took.

He peeled his hand from his face, and was disappointed once again that it was all still real.

" _Everyone with a radio, this is Colonel Young. Rush is missing."_

Eli jumped and stared in confusion at his walkie-talkie.

" _I need everyone who is able to start searching the ship. He may be unstable when you find him so please proceed with caution. Radio immediately upon location. Young out."_

Eli scrambled up from his bed. He slapped open the door of his quarters and started out, kicking something that went  _CLUNG_  when he hit it, sending a jolt of pain through his foot up and up his leg.

"Argh!"

He hobbled a little, irritated and scared and now in pain, over to the stupid little thing that someone seriously  _should not_  have left outside his door-

Whoa. It was a kino. And it had his name written on it with a black marker. It was almost enough to make him forget what he was supposed to be doing, but when Chloe ran by with T.J., he decided it would have to wait.

—

" _He's not in the Apple Core."_

" _He's not in the chair room either, I just checked."_

There was radio chatter all over the place. They were broadcasting on all channels, trying to hunt down their missing scientist, holding conversations that went on and on and on. He ignored them all. He would tell him where he was when he was good and ready.

" _He's not in his math hallway."_  That was Chloe.

" _Someone check the bathroom!"_

" _Just did, he's not there."_

He wanted to see it one last time. It was magnificent, a truly glorious piece of technology, that used to take his breath away every time. Being around it for so long had dampened some of the impression, but now…now that he was closing in on his final day, now that the time he could spend here was painfully limited, he found himself drawn once again to its perfect design, beautiful lines, flawless curves. It awed him like the very first time he ever saw it.

" _He's not on the observation deck."_

_"He's not in the shuttle."_

" _This same thing happened yesterday,"_  came Lieutenant James's voice. He turned the volume of his borrowed walkie-talkie down to its lowest setting just above mute.  _"He got confused and wandered off and couldn't remember where he was."_

" _He could be anywhere!"_  That was Eli.

_No, Eli. I'm not "anywhere". I'm where I need to be right now._

He reached out a hand and touched the Stargate. It was cold, but he found it soothing. Remarkable. Fascinating. Surreal.

And so, so not worth it.

With a sigh he stroked the empty fourth finger of his left hand. He missed his ring so strongly it made him ache all over. "You know, I spent the last years of your life away from you," he said out loud. "All because of this. This…thing, this piece of metal, that can no more breathe or think or feel than any other hunk of tin on any other planet…This thing became more important to me than you were. And now it'll be gone too."

He walked from one side to the other, weaving through the middle, and eventually stopping in the center. He wished he could dial it just to see the event horizon once more. His memory would have to do.

"I didn't realize what should have been important," he went on. " _You_  were important. But I put you aside, my love, to use the time I should have spent with you finding the solution to some cosmic question that I couldn't even answer in the end. I wasn't enough. Neither were you. But you should have been. And now all of this, my life's work, is all gone." He felt his eyes burning and his throat tightening. "I'm so, so sorry."

_What have you become, Nicholas?_

It was a fair question. And he had no answer. The change must have been gradual - a subtle shift in priorities, a progressive need to distract himself from her illness. He would never have consciously neglected her that way. Not that it mattered. The end result was still the same. She was gone, and he hadn't been there for her as he should have. He'd wasted those precious years and he would never, ever get them back. There was no way to fix it, no way to change it, no way to take it back or make it right or even  _apologize_. He knew she would have forgiven him, but it wasn't the same.

Oh, how he missed her.

He sank to the floor at the base of the Stargate, overcome by all of the emotions twisting through him, the pain, the exhaustion. He hung his head and covered his face.

A very soft voice from the door of the room didn't even make him flinch: "I found him."

—

Ronald Greer had only seen Rush cry one time, and it was on that wasteland planet during the manhunt for Simeon. He hadn't known what to do then, and he didn't know what to do now. There was no Lieutenant Scott to step up and try to offer comfort. He had never been very good at the whole compassion thing. He'd watched Rush talking to himself - or talking to his hand, or the gate, or whatever - wondering if the good doctor had lost his mind, but when he saw him drop to the floor, he knew that this was a serious matter.

" _Greer, where is he?"_  came the colonel's reply.

"Stand by." Greer slowly stepped closer to the pitiful figure crumpled at the foot of the gate. Rush had to know he was there, but he did not acknowledge him. Crouching down at Rush's side, he put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Doc."

Rush just nodded.

"You scared the crap out of a lot of people just now. Half the ship is looking for you."

"I know."

"Everything okay in here? Need T.J.?"

Rush shook his head and pressed his palm against his eyes. "No, I'll be fine. Just…"

He trailed off, but Greer understood. There was only so much a man can take, and Rush had taken more than most. He was militant about this ship and its mission, the only one of them who didn't want to go home, but he had completely given up on the pursuit once he discovered the Icarus planet they were flying to in order to get the crew back to Earth. And now he would never be able to complete it again. Life as he knew it was over. Compounded with his illness and the attitude of the crew members who disliked him, plus the stress of whatever the IOA was doing, it was a wonder Rush hadn't broken down before this. Greer felt nothing but perfect pity for the man. He could feel Rush shaking under his hand.

" _Greer, report."_

"Just a minute, sir," Greer responded.

" _Just tell me, is he okay?"_

That was a matter of perspective, but Greer answered, "He's fine."

Rush got his own radio in hand. "This is Rush, I'm all right. We're in the gate room."

" _Copy."_

They sat in silence. Greer wasn't sure if he should withdraw his hand or not, but Rush wasn't reacting to the contact, so he decided it wouldn't do any harm to leave it where it was. He went back in his mind again to that wasteland planet, when he'd told LT Scott that he'd never forgive Rush. He could remember the anger he was feeling then, the frustration, the hopelessness, but he couldn't access it anymore. It felt so far away. He could no longer relate to that Greer. Whether that was because Rush had changed so much that he had finally earned forgiveness or because Greer had changed enough to be able to give it, he might never know. He just knew that he really, really wished Rush wasn't dying. He had been surprised to learn that Future Rush had said Greer was the first to volunteer to stay on the ship and continue the mission. The possibility of that didn't feel so remote anymore. Greer respected this man, and Greer's respect, once earned, was eternal.

Rush began the process of pulling himself together again. He steadied his breathing and dried his face on his t-shirt, then straightened his legs to stand. The movement seemed to destabilize him and he fell against the Stargate.

Greer reached for him. "Whoa, you okay?"

Rush just nodded, but he accepted the sergeant's hand. "Yeah, fine. Dizzy is all."

"T.J.'s on her way."

Rush just nodded, trying to stay steady on his own feet.

T.J. arrived with Colonel Young, Chloe, Eli, and Scott. A collective expression of relief spread from face to face. "Rush," said the medic gently. "Everything okay?"

"Fine."

She came closer and took his other hand, the one not holding on to Greer's forearm. "Let's go."

The trio walked together, Greer supporting most of the scientist's weight, all the way back to the infirmary. He stayed at Rush's side until he was safely on a bed, then a minute more to ensure he was comfortable as he could be, then he retreated out to the hallway where the colonel was waiting for him.

"Good find, Sergeant," said Young.

"Thank you, sir."

"Dismissed."

Greer took one last glance inside to Rush, who nodded at him in what he believed to be gratitude. He nodded back and took his leave.

—

The day passed. Tamara informed Colonel Young that she planned to keep Rush pretty much confined to the infirmary from that point on, as he was beginning to deteriorate so much that he couldn't even walk without help. Rush spent the hours lying on his bed, facing away from her, withdrawn inside his own mind. He didn't speak to anyone, and eventually Tamara forbade any visitors for the day. The afternoon died away and the ship darkened as the simulated night took control.

Colonel Young came by one last time before bed. He stood in the door of the infirmary and kept his voice very quiet. "How is he?"

She just shook her head. "He won't talk anymore. He hasn't even asked to go back to work."

"That's probably a good thing, considering how his mind has been recently."

"Yeah. He has barely moved since this morning. The blood clots are everywhere, Colonel. They're just everywhere. I can't stay ahead of them."

The colonel sighed. "How confident are you that there is a cure back on that planet?"

"Honestly?" She looked to the motionless Rush, who had burrowed beneath a blanket and appeared to have fallen asleep. "At this point, it doesn't matter. He'd be dead before we made it there."

The sigh that escaped him was one she'd heard often aboard this ship. It was one of hopelessness, helplessness, resignation, and despair. He said nothing, simply nodding, and walked away. She returned to her desk, but was too distracted to work. Or sleep.

She was still up hours later when she heard Rush begin to stir. She noticed his breathing change first. Gone was the slow, even in and out of sleep, cut off by a short gasp and replaced by the shallow, quick shudders of someone fighting pain. Then he began to move, and when he didn't stop she got up from her desk and went to his bed. She found him sitting up, one hand wrapped around his middle and the other holding his head.

"Doctor Rush?"

He groaned. No other response. Tamara kept the light off and crouched down at his side. His eyes were screwed shut, his face tight and tense. He turned to look at her. "Lieutenant…it's so bright in here."

It was 0100. With the simulated daytime off, she had left on two small lamps that cast just enough light to carve white silhouettes out of the darkness around the objects in the room. She could barely see as it was. "How about some more pain medicine?" she suggested softly. He nodded. She got up and went to the table by his bed, picking up his bottle of pain relievers. She shook the bottle and paused. There wasn't much left. With a sigh she handed it to him. "Here you go."

He let go of his head long enough to take some of the powder, then put it right back again. "It's so loud."

Tamara couldn't hear anything except the low whir of her equipment and the hum of the FTL. "What's loud, Rush?"

He grunted again. "Lieutenant, make it stop."

Her heart wrenched. She didn't know what she could do, but she went around the room switching off everything she could find that produced light or sound. When she finished it was completely dark and she stood lost. Blind.

"Thank you," she heard him barely whisper. And then there was silence.

—

" _Eli, what can I say? It was nice to have someone on this ship that I could have a decent conversation with. You'll understand how valuable that is in the coming years, of this I'm sure. I am…very proud of you. Very proud. It was truly rewarding to me watching you rise to your potential. There's no one else I'd have rather had by my side. I mean that. Thank you for solving the mystery and for showing me what my life's work accomplished. That means everything. If you ever regret taking this journey, just remember everything you have seen and learned. I sincerely hope it was worth it to you. Please know that I think your father is a disgrace. Take care of your mum and yourself, and know that I hope she stays well. Best of luck with everything."_

Eli huddled at his desk in the dark, staring at the console with the kino he'd found outside his room. He had never cried so hard.


	13. Chapter 13

Everett had often heard the expression "small blessings". He didn't think there was any such thing, because if it was big enough to make an impact, it should not be considered small. It was the little things that could sometimes mean the most, like the new flavor of liquid protein Becker invented. Or a new, unworn pair of socks. A sharp razor blade. It's the little things that keep you going, especially during a crisis, while you're waiting for the big thing that you really need. Everett tried to focus on little things while he lay in bed, long before the simulated daytime came on.

That was one. Ability to control the ship's lighting so they could maintain some pretense of a routine. Working wristwatches. Beds with pillows. Showers. He needed one. Loyal soldiers. Clean air. He tried to keep thinking, but his mind repeatedly wandered again and again to the one thing, the big thing, that they were waiting for, and that they knew they wouldn't get. A miracle. A healthy Rush. It was this that kept him from sleep, that was slowly wearing down his appetite, that was giving him a deeper feeling of helplessness than anything else could do.

Guilt was chewing away at him. He couldn't shake the feeling that he owed Rush yet another apology despite having offered several already. Rush had deflected each one, not exactly rebuffing them, but also not regarding them as either important or necessary. Like they weren't what he wanted. Probably because they  _weren't_  what he wanted. He didn't care how  _sorry_  anyone was, because  _sorry_  didn't change the fact that Everett had gone back on his promise.  _"You lied to me,"_ were his bitter words. His blistering indictment. Everett had argued that no, he hadn't, because he'd absolutely resolved to do what he promised, which was remain on the ship  _that time_. His intention was to not return to Earth when everyone else did while they were dialing within a star. That was the deal. And even though he didn't actually get the chance to put his promise into action, his intentions were good.  _"Semantics, _"_  _Rush had said. He was wrong, but somehow Everett still felt like  _he_  was at fault. _What is the road to hell paved with?_

Everett didn't regret his decision to return to Earth. He  _did_  regret that his friendship with Rush was the price he had to pay. That, he suspected, was the true root of the problem. It wasn't simply that he wanted to go home that had Rush in a tailspin; it was that he had actually put his desire to return, or indeed anything at all, ahead of their relationship. Ahead of Rush himself. He was apologizing for the wrong thing. He was sorry that Rush didn't trust him, but he had never apologized for the act that had broken that trust. And now Rush felt disposable, worthless, and left behind.  _Again_.

Nothing with that man was simple. Why did it have to be like this? Why did everything have to be a battle to be fought, a side to be taken, a line to be drawn? Why couldn't something be easy, just once?

Didn't matter. Couldn't answer that, so didn't try. He got up from his bed and dressed in the semi-dark, then began making his way to the infirmary to go be the bigger man and apologize once again. And maybe do it right this time. He knew it was early, and he genuinely hoped to find him sleeping. He would return later if it came to that.

He found the door open. He approached silently and peered inside, and what he found made him hesitate, unwilling to interrupt. He could see what they were doing, but he didn't know  _what_  they were doing. The room was dark, the lights off but for a lamp in a faraway corner, left on probably out of necessity. Rush was sitting on the edge of his bed, bent over with his hands supporting his head. Chloe - what was she doing here so early? - was standing in front of him with her fingers buried in his hair, slowly and gently massaging his scalp. T.J. was on the bed behind him, kneading the muscles of his back, neck, and shoulders. There was gentle music coming from somewhere. Violin, Everett thought. Quiet, soothing.

He came closer into T.J.'s field of vision, and she turned at once. She shook her head and stopped him with her eyes. Everett stopped in the doorway and raised an eyebrow at her, and she gave an apologetic smile. Chloe noticed something was wrong and looked up to seek out the cause of the intrusion. Seeing him, she frowned. He frowned back at her.

"Chloe," T.J. said, very, very softly, and Rush let out a small breath. Whatever T.J. said next was too quiet for Everett to hear, but she flicked her eyes from Chloe to him and the girl seemed to understand at once, though she didn't look happy.

"I'll be right back, Nick, I promise," Chloe whispered. Rush just nodded. Chloe hurried to the door, waving Everett along. They left the bulkhead open.

A safe distance away, he asked, "What was that all about?"

Chloe was walking quickly. He had to make an effort to keep up. "It's not you, Colonel. He's got a raging headache and he's hyper sensitive to light and sound right now. T.J. thinks he's clotting so much that it's causing his blood pressure to spike. We're trying to keep quiet."

Everett couldn't help a snort. So, they thought he was loud.

"Plus he was complaining about feeling stiff. She thinks the blood clots are lodging in his muscle fibers. He can't sleep."

"So T.J. is…?"

"Trying to break up the clots."

"And you are…?"

"Trying not to let his head explode."

He wanted to tell her to slow down. She was almost running toward the mess hall. "When's the last time he ate?"

She sighed. "Two days ago. He can't keep anything down anymore. We'll have to go to I.V. pretty soon."

His stomach dropped. Sometimes he forgot that Rush wasn't just sick. He often found himself wondering how long until he got better and got back to work, but then reality would slam him sideways and remind him that Rush wasn't going to pull out of this. T.J. and Chloe weren't in there trying to help him heal; they were trying to make it easier to die. He watched Chloe's face, all focus and determination on the surface, but deeper within he saw her heart breaking.

When they made it to the Mess, Chloe said, "Becker," and suddenly there was Becker with a tray of food. Chloe whisked it all away and Everett followed.

"Any idea how much longer he'll last?"

As soon as he asked it, he regretted it. Chloe didn't stop moving but she threw him a glare that could have melted steel. "I don't know, and I'm trying not to think about it!"

He inwardly winced. They covered the rest of the distance in silence. Chloe hurried at once back to Rush's side, depositing the tray on the table next to T.J. They switched places, Chloe climbing onto the bed while T.J went around.

Everett watched Rush. The man's face was pinched with pain, his breaths came in short gusts, and he seemed on the verge of either throwing up or passing out. From a basin of water on the floor at her feet, T.J. took a wet cloth and pressed it against his head, and another she held at the back of his neck, and he leaned into her hand with a shudder.

Everett felt an overwhelming sense of indebtedness to Rush in that moment. Here he was, in the hands of probably the two most important people in his life right now. One was trying to keep him alive, and the other was trying to keep him sane. These roles could have been so different, where T.J. would be sitting on that bed, and Lieutenant James would probably be stroking her back, and Everett would be holding her head and thinking to himself how unfair this all was and how he couldn't imagine losing her after they'd come all this way. It could have happened. It  _would_  have happened, if not for this uncontrollable madman. Everett was angry that it was happening, but somehow he was angrier that it was happening entirely without his participation. Why hadn't he been given the opportunity to do the brave thing? How did Rush end up in a position to show him up once again? How was Rush, with all his flaws and faults and bloody hands, now suddenly everyone's hero?

 _Because you're perfect, right?_ his mind taunted him.

 _No, because I'm supposed to be the one who cares about these people, and he's supposed to be the one who doesn't. It's simple._  But he screwed up the status quo and now look where it got him.

Chloe was speaking. Her voice was soft and slow, and whatever she was saying, Rush was responding to. He reached behind himself and held on to one of her hands while she continued to caress his back with the other.

Everett found this very strange at first before he realized he probably shouldn't. These two had a bond, he knew that. No one else on the ship had been abducted by aliens. Common ground went a long way when you were trapped on a ship billions of lightyears from Earth. But he observed the way Rush was sitting, with these two women running their hands all over him, and he wondered about the reputation Rush had developed. People had this idea that he was the type of person you knew by instinct not to touch, and if you didn't know then you learned real quick. It was like they thought physical contact was an issue for Rush, but Everett suspected it was an excuse they made because it was an issue for  _them_. They didn't  _want_  to touch him. Like they'd created these imaginary scenarios about why they  _shouldn't_  - like touch had been so largely missing from his life that he was used to going without it, or he'd had too much of the wrong kind, or he just plain didn't like it. But Everett had spent plenty of time with the man even before  _Destiny_ , and he had never seen anything that would give anyone such an idea. He knew that Rush was human and he craved human affection as much as anyone. He'd heard a rumor that Rush had hugged the body of Camille while it had been occupied by Amanda Perry. Future Rush had let T.J. examine him with no fuss. After the ship lost power and he was about to collapse, Rush had reached out his hand, not for some _thing_  because there was nothing there, but for some _one,_  to help him, to catch him. And Everett had.

Maybe that was why this scene caused him so much unease. Everett had only touched Rush a handful of times, and half them had been to hurt him. Their relationship in the past had been strange, unpredictable, and sometimes violent, but in time they had learned how to coexist. They tolerated each other on bad days. On good days they even enjoyed each other's company. It was in Everette's nature to care and he didn't like letting people suffer if he could help it, but here he could not picture himself in either T.J.'s place or Chloe's, and he didn't know if it was because he thought Rush wouldn't want him there or because he felt with their history that he had no right to try. This version of friendship they had did not seem to allow that kind of intimacy, and when Everett realized he felt relieved about that, he wondered if that sort of thing was how the opinions formed to begin with. Excuses. Reasons not to reach out. Because people didn't actually like Rush that much, and they didn't want to make the effort to try, and Rush wasn't about to go out of his way to help them. Mutual mistrust. Mutual distance. It was just easier that way.

He watched as Chloe slowly scooted closer to the edge of the bed. She was partly massaging, partly pulling Rush's shoulders toward her, toward the raised back. T.J. followed them, holding the cloth against his head. Gradually they got him to lie back. Chloe kept on him, gently squeezing his shoulders and rubbing the back of his neck, until finally she withdrew her hands and lifted his feet to place them straight out in front of him on the bed. When T.J. took the towel away, they could see that Rush was finally out, his breaths slow, deep, and even. The girls smiled at each other, oblivious to Everett completely.

It was the little things. Like helping a dying man go to sleep. He chose this moment to slip away. 


	14. Chapter 14

The day went by unremarked, and soon it was closing in on evening time. Dinner was being served in the Mess again but Everett found that his appetite had fled long ago. He sat by himself in the command chair on the bridge, staring out into the nothingness of space, neither willing nor wanting to move from that spot. He would be perfectly happy to ride out the rest of the trip right where he was. There wasn't much commanding to do these days, now that the course had been set for home. Their power reserves were in good shape, their food situation could wait another week or two, and everyone seemed to be getting along. There wasn't a lot of need for him to be anywhere else.

The whole ship had gained a mood of finality. They all knew Rush had little time left, and he had heard whispers that the man had started sending his visitors away after only a few minutes. That he didn't want to see them was doubtful; Everett guessed he was simply unable to make the effort to interact with them, and it was said that he had had been spending more and more time during the day sleeping. Or trying to. It was interesting to watch how the least liked man among them became the one everyone wanted to see. Gossipmongers, the lot of them.

"Colonel?"

Her sweet voice always could make him smile, even in his darkest moments. He swiveled the chair to face her, but his smile vanished at once. She didn't look well. "T.J. How is he? How are you?"

T.J. had a faraway look in her eyes. "Not good. Eli is with him right now."

"How not good?" he asked gently.

She was silent before shaking her head. "Not good. It was a bad night, he barely slept at all." She looked like she hadn't slept either. "Today wasn't much better."

He suddenly felt guilty about not coming by again sooner. "What happened?"

She rested against the rail, looking worn. "Everything is getting worse. His pain is increasing, especially at night. He's not sleeping. He can't eat. I've given him an I.V. to keep him hydrated, and he says he's not even hungry anymore. His nerves are dying and anything that doesn't hurt is numb. He's uncomfortable, but moving is getting too difficult. And he…" She swallowed and blinked back tears. "He cries. He just…cries."

Everett massaged his forehead. He really didn't need to know that. "Pain medicine?"

"I'm throwing everything I have at it. It works for a while, but then it wears off and he wakes up. I don't want to use too much because we'll run out too soon, and I don't want him to...outlive our supply." She barely managed to get the words out before she finally fell apart. She still held the rail, but she wilted down to the floor, weeping. Everett hurried from the chair and went to her side, dropping down next to her and pulling her in. She gripped his shirt in her fists and sobbed into his chest.

"T.J.," he said, but that was all he said, because there were no words of comfort he could offer her. He knew that this was the hardest part of her job. Trying to help someone she knew she couldn't save. She was hurting so badly, and he hurt for her. He held her close, wishing to absorb her pain into himself. "Is there anything else you can give him? Anything at all?"

She kept trying to breathe. "I have a very strong sedative. But it would basically put him into a coma, and he wants me to wait on that until the very last day, when I'm sure that he wouldn't wake up from it. But he's not at that point yet." She sheltered her face in his chest again. "I can't do this, Colonel, I can't."

"I know," he murmured. He tightened his embrace and rubbed her arm, waiting for her to gather herself while she sniffed, wiped at her nose and eyes, and then broke down again. He made soft sounds that he hoped would be calming. Something was burning inside him. Anger, most probably, but at what? At whom? This was nobody's fault. T.J. was just such an affectionate soul, and it tore her apart when she couldn't help someone. Her loving heart made her more sensitive to pain like this, but it also forged her into a darn good medic. He couldn't picture her being so happy — or so unhappy — doing anything else.

In time she went quiet, but still she trembled, looking out the windows, there but not present. She seemed so far away then. Disconnected. Her despair was visible in each feature, in the shine in her eyes, the hard line of her lips, the quivering of her chin. Her blond hair was loose around her face and she needed a shower. He wondered how long it had been since she'd properly slept. It grieved him to see her like this. He wanted to speak, but he didn't know what to say. So he just held her instead.

–

"There has to be something we can do."

Rush sighed at him. The exasperation in that sigh was slightly infuriating. "Don't you think if there was, I'd have done it by now?"

"Maybe," Eli said. "Maybe not."

Rush glared at him.

Okay, yeah, now really wasn't the time to start a fight. "Come on. I've been thinking about the stasis pods."

Rush looked uncertain. "What about them?"

"They can keep you alive until we get back to Earth."

"And then what?"

Eli paused. He hadn't actually thought that far ahead. "Um...and then the new crew can go back to the planet with the jungle alien and get more venom..."

Rush's eyes softened and he shook his head. "No. It's a good thought, Eli, but it wouldn't work."

Despite himself, Eli felt a little miffed. He hated being dismissed so quickly. "How do you know?"

"Because we've already tried it. Lieutenant Johansen asked for my help with more than just the kinos. Stasis can't stop this disease."

Eli frowned in disbelief. "How is that possible?"

Rush shifted and rubbed at his shoulder. "These stasis chambers don't suspend the metabolic processes. They just slow them down. The blood clots would still form, however slowly, and I would be unable to take the blood thinners. In the years it would take to get back to that planet..." He shook his head. "I don't want to die in that pod."

Eli fought against a deep-seated rage building inside. This was not fair. "What about the chair?"

Rush stared at him blankly. "What?"

"The  _chair_. What about that? You could become part of the ship forever, right? You could continue the mission with a whole new crew. You would have a lot more crews over the next thousand years. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"You're actually suggesting that I use the neural interface chair?"

Eli shrugged.

Rush smiled. "Wow. That's certainly different for you." The smile dimmed then.

"You've already thought of that too, haven't you?" Eli asked.

Rush nodded. "Yeah."

That figured. "And?"

Rush sighed. "Well, first of all, it's assuming that I would actually become part of the ship, and not just that my personality would be imitated by the AI. It's also assuming a new crew would cooperate with me without overriding the AI or throwing me into quarantine like Amanda and Ginn. Seeing as how Telford will be the new commander, the odds of that are pretty low.  _If_  by some miracle they do, that's just this crew. What about the next one? Or the one after that? Eventually someone will find their end with me and dispose of me anyway."

Eli snorted. "That's awfully pessimistic."

"It's reality."

"You won  _us_  over."

"Yeah, and look where it got me." He grimaced guiltily. "I didn't mean that. But secondly, Eli...I don't..." He swallowed. "I don't...want...a new crew."

Eli watched him toy with his ringless wedding finger. _He wants_ this _crew_. Rush was so convinced that these were the right people, so fiercely loyal to that belief, that the idea of a replacement team was unsupportable. The anger was replaced by pain, strong enough to cut off his breath. "But..." Eli said, grasping. "But you'd still be alive. Isn't that something?"

Rush wouldn't meet his eyes. "There's more to life than being alive."

Eli saw right into that. What was the point of living forever if you couldn't spend it with the people you actually care about?

"Besides," Rush carried on, "I'm not sure how the damage to my brain would translate through the device at this point, and we would never convince Colonel Young to let me do it. He's turned a blind eye to my continued work up to now but he would never allow that."

Eli fiddled with a kino in his sweatshirt pocket. "So you really have given up, then."

Rush finally looked at him. "What?"

"You're not even trying. You're coming up with all these excuses not to go back. Not to  _survive_."

Rush's eyes narrowed, but not in anger. "They're not excuses. I tried, Eli. It's not my fault there is no solution this time."

Eli stared at him. "I still think you're wrong."

Rush shrugged. "I'm not."

 _One of many things we'll never really know._  "This is so unfair."

Rush didn't respond, except to drop his eyes. Then he reached over to where his pain medicine sat on the table and dipped his finger into it, sucking it off with a grimace before sliding further down into the bed. He was starting to look tired.

Eli handed him the kino. "Here. I made you this. I want you to watch it all the way through, at least once. Okay?"

Rush took it and nodded. "Of course."

Eli stood. "Look, I gotta go. Will you be okay by yourself until T.J. gets back?"

"I'll be fine."

Eli didn't want to leave, but he really didn't want to stay. He was starting to understand what Chloe said to him before.  _I can't even look at him._  With a stiff wave he turned to the door, stopping when Rush's voice followed him.

"I don't blame you, Eli."

 _You should._  He turned back to look at him, but he had draped an arm across his eyes against the light. Without answering, Eli ducked away.

–

They'd been sitting in silence for an era. Everett looked at T.J., summoning the courage to breach the peaceful quiet. "Hey." He nudged her gently. "Talk to me. You look like you're dwelling on something."

She still had that distant look about her even as she sighed and sniffed. "I don't know. Just thinking."

"About Rush?"

She paused, then shook her head. "No, not really. I mean, kind of, but mostly…" She rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand. "Chloe said something to me the other day and I can't get it out of my head. She said it's like watching someone drown. And that's exactly what it is."

He felt a roll in his gut and nodded. "Yeah."

"But what I keep thinking about is that…in just a couple of years, this is exactly what I'm going to be putting my family through."

He looked at her with a start. She turned to him, eyes red around the edges. "T.J…"

"I don't want that for them," she said with a hiccup. "It will kill them, the way this is killing me."

He stared at her. He couldn't not stare. Finally, he asked, "Is this why you agreed that Rush would take the vaccine?"

She nodded. "We made a deal," she confessed. "He promised that he would personally talk to my family and tell them all about the mission.  _Everything_ , even the classified parts. I didn't want anything hidden from them. I wanted them to know exactly where I've been and why I wasn't coming home." She bit her lip, wincing a little in expectation of his reaction.

That was not her authority, and Everett felt his pity swell with disappointment. "Lieutenant," he said, but she cut him off.

"I know, sir. I had no right to ask him that. But…I didn't expect to be here for the fallout."

Something else twisted within him. He couldn't name it, and he was too tired to try.

"I was trying to spare them  _this_ ," she continued, gesturing widely behind her to the general direction of her invalid. "If I died out here it would have hurt them, but it would have hurt all at once. Now they'll watch me die slowly, little by little."

Everett had to take a moment to take that in. He cleared an emotion out of his throat. "Why didn't you tell him?"

She snorted. "I  _did_  tell him."

"And he disregarded your wishes and your feelings." As per usual.

"For the greater good, he told me."

"Do you think he was right?"

She stared out into space. "I don't know. It doesn't really matter now, and I know once I get home I'll probably be glad he did it. But right now…" She turned again to look out the bridge, past the walls and circuits, right into the infirmary where Rush was withering away. Her eyes filled again with tears, and she brought the back of her hand to her mouth to smother a sob. "I should get back there," she said weakly, and she stood, steeling herself for another trial. Whatever happened last night must have been bad.

He pulled himself up by the railing. "I'll stay with him tonight," he said before he even considered it. The sound of his own words surprised him, but he had yet to take a shift of looking after Rush, and if he could spare T.J. that ordeal again, so be it. She looked at him in mild surprise, but he just nodded. "I'll do it. It's okay."

She made half an effort to protest, but he could tell how grateful she was that he had offered so she wouldn't have to ask. She hugged him then, subordinate officer or no. "Thank you," she whispered.

He nodded and gave her a squeeze. "Let's go. You need to get some sleep."

"You need to get some dinner," she said.

He waved his hand. "I'm not hungry."

She gave him a doubtful frown, but she really must have been tired, because she didn't fight him on it. They went to the infirmary together. T.J. was immediately angry that Eli had left Rush alone, and after checking to make sure he was all right, she made Everett promise to remind her to yell at the kid tomorrow. Rush didn't seem to care who his keeper was anymore, and he simply closed his eyes again when T.J. told him that the colonel would be watching over him this time. She began to give Everett a brief rundown of what he could expect for the night.

She held up a small plastic bottle. "This is his pain medicine. It's like a narcotic. It's strong, but it makes him sick, so just a pinch at a time. Sublingually."

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Under his tongue," she clarified. "He, uh…likes to do it himself."

For that he was grateful. "Okay."

She put her hands behind her hips and looked around. "He isn't due for blood thinners again until morning, and I'll be back here for that."

"Okay."

"Keep an eye on the I.V. Try not to let him jostle it too much. If there's any problem with it, if it comes out or the alarms go off or something, you can call Varro. He's gotten really good at that stuff."

He nodded. "Got it. What else?"

She hesitated, looking to the sleeping man on the bed. "Good luck," she said.

That sounded promising. She left them with a deeply sorrowful, deeply grateful look, and disappeared like a ghost out the door. The colonel flicked off all the lights, sat in the chair at Rush's bedside, and settled in for a long night.

For a while he just watched him. Rush lay very still, facing the other way, maybe sleeping, maybe not. The I.V. clicked and the oxygen sensors displayed his vitals in neon numbers on the screen. This would be the ideal time to have an important little chat, but Everett wasn't sure if Rush was lucid enough, or if he was himself up for the effort. Eh, might as well give it a shot.

"Rush," he said softly. Rush moved, shifting slightly, but didn't turn over.

"What?" The word was a mumble, groggy and hoarse.

He winced, hoping he hadn't woken him. "We need to talk."

A snort. "Do we?"

"Yeah, we do. You wanna look at me? Or should I go to you?"

Rush didn't answer and didn't move. Everett got up from the chair and walked around to the other side. Rush's eyes were closed, his forehead gently creased. Everett wondered if he was in pain or just dreading this conversation.

"You all right?" he asked.

Rush scoffed. "Just get on with it."

"All right." He took an opening breath. "I want to apologize to you."

Rush groaned and did move that time, rolling over to his other side. Everett went back around. Rush swore at him. "Look, Colonel, we have talked about this already. I've had this discussion with Chloe, and Eli, and Tamara, and I really don't want to have it with you again. Can't we just let this go?"

"No," Everett said. "Because I haven't said what I needed to say. I want you to listen to me."

"What more could you possibly have to say?"

Honestly, he didn't know. He just wanted Rush to know that he understood why he was so angry. "I'm sorry that you feel like I lied to you." In answer, Rush turned away again. "I'm sorry that I lied to you," he amended. "I'm sorry that my decision put you in a position to have to give up your entire life."

Rush grunted. "Why do people keep saying that?"

"Because it's true. Isn't it? This ship is everything to you."

Rush didn't answer.

"I'm sorry that things aren't turning out the way you planned and I'm sorry for the part I played in that," Everett continued. "I'm sorry you chose not to come home. I'm sorry for everything you've lost. I'm sorry that the most important thing in your life is being taken away from you."

Rush rolled over to face him and glared. "Are you done? You think you understand me? You think you know anything? You don't."

"I'm sorry that I sacrificed your friendship to get myself home," Everett finally admitted.

Rush looked jolted. He shrunk back and frowned, but not angrily, as if he were trying to determine if Everett was serious. "Well, good for you," he finally said, but the tone was less severe than Everett was used to, and he could not meet the colonel's eyes. He settled himself again, facing the opposite wall. "I am done talking about this, Colonel. Let me sleep."

Everett didn't know what he was expecting, but he felt his words had gotten through. He sat in the chair again and silenced himself, trying to be as comfortable as he could.

It was just before 0300 when he was dragged out of a hollow slumber. Something in the room had changed. At first he cursed himself, angry for dozing off while he was supposed to be on watch. He hadn't properly prepared for this, but that was no excuse. Now that he was awake he wondered how much he'd missed. Was there a sound? A presence? He looked around but saw nothing out of place, and then he looked to Rush, who was lying on his side in the bed, blankets pulled up to his chin. His training was kicking into full gear and he was wide awake now, on high alert, waiting. He stood to get a better view and squinted in the dimness.  _Can't see anything._  But something had woken him up.

Then he heard it again. A quick, quiet whimper in the darkness, and he realized it was coming from the bed. Coming from Rush. Everett realized then that the scientist was not sleeping as he thought, and now, as his eyes had adjusted to the low light, he could see Rush's hands clutching his head and his eyes squeezed shut. His breathing was quiet but ragged, broken by another soft groan.

Everett sat in the chair again. "Rush…" he whispered.

Rush's eyes opened then closed again immediately. "Thought you were sleeping," he grunted.

"I was," Everett said with a shrug.

"Yeah, sorry about that."

Everett watched Rush curl in, remembering how T.J. and Chloe caressed his pain away, and he looked down at his own hands. He had quintessential man hands, broad with strong fingers, not slender, delicate digits like Chloe's or T.J.'s. He felt like there was something perverse about the thought of trying to massage Rush's head; he doubted his touch would be anywhere near as soothing as the girls', and probably all it would do would make them both uncomfortable. That was the opposite of what he wanted.

Rush writhed from his side onto his back, no longer attempting to curb his pain, moaning and whimpering into his palms. The sounds had a frightening quality, here in this lonely darkness. Everett felt a creeping across his neck. Then suddenly Rush was sitting up, pulling himself over the other edge of the bed and vomiting onto the floor. Everett sighed.  _Again with this. How much longer? When does it stop?_ He felt awful for thinking it because there was no comfort in the answer.  _It stops when he dies._

"Colonel," Rush said, breathing hard. His voice sounded weak, anxious.

"I'm here," Everett murmured.

Rush fell backward with a choked sound, pressing a palm hard against his forehead. "Do you have your sidearm?"

The creeping feeling was back, cold this time. Gooseflesh prickled on his arms and scalp. Of course he had his sidearm. His mind refused to wonder why Rush would ask such a question, and he did not respond.

"Colonel."

"What…"

Rush groaned. "Please."

His blood turned to ice. He had heard that  _please_  before, drawn from the lips of another dying man, begging for pity, for release. He could not banish the image of young Riley, his legs crushed, his life slipping away as he lay in the dirt, beyond help. Almost out of reach. Only moments before Everett smothered him to death with his own two hands.

" _Colonel_."

"No, Rush," he growled out, raspy-voiced.  _Not again._  "No. I can't do that."

Rush covered his face with both hands. In the deep shadows, Everett could see him shaking. "I can't do this anymore," he pleaded.

"Okay. T.J. left some pain medicine. We'll do that instead."

Rush didn't answer that time. His jagged breaths were muffled, echoing behind his palms. If Everett didn't know better — and he probably  _didn't_  know better — he would say Rush was crying. Weeping.  _Oh, man._  He went to the table at the bedside and twisted off the cap of the pain reliever, holding it down to where he could reach it, softly saying his name.

"I don't understand," Rush said, very quietly, ignoring the offering. "You have tried twice to kill me, but when I want you to, you refuse."

He bristled.  _You seriously want to do this now?_

"Is this it, then? Is this your last revenge? Are you trying to find new ways to hurt me? To get back at me for the mutiny, or the setup, or whatever it is you think I've done to you?"

In spite of everything, Everett was furious. He slammed the bottle onto the table and leaned down into Rush's face. "None of that is true, and you know it. That's not what this is about. This is you trying to piss me off so I'll put you out of your misery. But you know something? That's not fair. Don't put that on me."

Rush was trembling so badly the bed shook. He took one hand from his face and held it out. "Then give it to me and I'll do it."

Everett stepped back to a safe distance. "Not happening."

"Don't act like this isn't what you've wanted the entire time."

"You're wrong," Everett said. "You think I want to sit here and watch you die? What kind of person do you think I am? All things being equal, I'd rather you  _weren't_  dying. We don't need the drop in morale."

"How very  _touching_."

"But you are. And in spite of that you need to keep holding on. Do you have any clue how hard T.J. is working for you?"

"I never asked her to," Rush countered. He closed his eyes, panting.

"You didn't have to. You knew she would try to save you."

"And we all know she can't," Rush said.

"You can't just give up," Everett said. "You can't do that to her after all she's done for you."

"All she's done is waste time. She's not changing anything. Today, tomorrow, the next day, what difference does it make? We all know how this is going to end."

"But it doesn't have to yet. She's giving you a chance, Rush. To keep holding on for one more day, for the people who care about you."

"Why does it matter what  _they_  want?" Rush challenged, though he fell just short of intimidating and landed somewhere in pitiful. Everett knew it was the pain talking. Rush was nearly at the end of himself, distraught, suffering, desperate for a way out. And for one terrible, irrational second, Everett had no answer. He stood there dumb, abandoned by all logic and reason, considering the minute possibility that they really had no right to ask Rush to stay if he wanted to go. He had no right to make him continue in this torment, to hold on for their own wishes when letting go would be so much better. His hand closed around the butt of his pistol.  _One shot, center mass. Or a quick and painless one to the brain._

But suddenly clarity returned, and with it his resolve. He shook his head and softened his tone. "Because you care about them too."

Rush wilted, dropping his arms with a sound like he was starting to protest, but he ended up just covering his mouth with his hand.

Everett picked up the medicine and held it out to him again. "One more day. You'll thank me in the morning."

Rush took the bottle and did not argue. And he did not speak again the rest of the night.

But neither did he sleep. He spent the hours sick, and Everett spent them cleaning up the ruins.

In the morning, when T.J. came to relieve him, he was glad to see that she was looking a little bit better. He was sure he looked terrible, and the expression on her face confirmed it. "How'd it go?" she asked anxiously.

There was so much he could have said. He could have talked for hours. Instead he settled for something simple, something he knew she'd still understand. "A bad night."

She just nodded sadly, the depth of her understanding laid bare in her eyes, and slipped past him into the room. He watched her go to Rush's side and help him sit up, then settle behind him on the bed. She gently, tenderly stroked her fingers through his hair, and the exhausted, miserable man she was trying to help just bowed his head forward and closed his eyes.


	15. Chapter 15

 

The day passed the way the day before had done. Everett tried to be productive, but all he managed to accomplish was break up a brawl in the mess hall over the last piece of jerky and get into another argument with Homeworld Command. He gave up on the day after that and spent the rest of the time hiding out on the bridge. The science team had gone adrift without Rush to boss them around, and they had reverted to spending all their time in the Apple Core again. Suited Everett just fine. He wanted the quiet.

They'd be home in four weeks. He should be celebrating. He should be down there with the rest of them, chatting them up, motivating them, encouraging them, congratulating them, praising them for their perseverance these last five years. But he wasn't. He was sitting here by himself, in these ugly amber lights, angry and sour and out of sorts. All over one dumb idiot whose fault it was that they were here to begin with. Of all the dozens of people on the ship,  _that one_  had the power to bring his mood down into the mud like no other. He always had. Probably enjoyed it, too.

 _Stop it!_  he scolded himself.  _You sound like the rest of those bellyachers down there._  When had he slipped into this state? He was so tired.

And that was the other thing. Of  _course_  he was tired. He hadn't really recovered from last night's undertaking of the incongruous task of trying to keep a dying man from dying. A frail and broken Rush was so much harder to handle than a scheming, neurotic, belligerent Rush. Everett had years of practice navigating Rush's temper and inconstant moods, and now he could deal with them sleepwalking. Rush had always been predictable insofar as that his motives remained the same. And his motives were invariably either survival, the mission, or the crew. Now that he'd lost all of those things, this hopeless side was something else altogether, brand new, uncharted and alien.  _Ha ha._  It required a totally different class of fortitude that Everett feared he'd bled dry of long, long ago. He wasn't cut out for this. They didn't cover this situation in officer training. No one had felt the need to develop a rulebook on how to relate to a man who was so out of touch with your world that his own had shrunk down to the size and shape of a single ancient spaceship, and then, having taken even that from him, how to cope with the consequences.

_That word again._

He stayed away from the infirmary and went to bed early. He woke up in the middle of the night with Leonard Cohen's  _Hallelujah_  in his head. Unable to go back to sleep, he got up and got dressed and went for a walk, a ritual he had developed since Rush had gotten sick. All he could hear as he roamed was the thrum of the engine, the whoosh of the heating system, the faint sigh of life support. The harmony and rhythm were like a gentle lullaby, luring the ship's inhabitants into sleep each night.

_But you don't really care for music, do you?_

The ship seemed so big at night. He often felt, as he wandered in the wee hours through these dark and empty halls, like he was the only soul on board. It was always peaceful. It was sometimes lonesome. He didn't know how he felt tonight, so he wasn't sure what to do when he began to hear the voices. They were soft; quiet whispers. Muffled footsteps. Gentle laughs. Who could possibly be about at this hour? The sounds were coming from up ahead, around another corner, or perhaps two. It was probably a patrol. No big deal. Nothing worth interrupting. But he was bored, and he might have been a little lonely, so with nothing better to do, he went to investigate.

He found T.J. and Rush in the middle of the hallway coming from the observation deck. They were strolling along, chatting. At 0230. What in the world? "Hey," he said, too loudly. Rush flinched, making him flinch too. He softened his voice as they turned to face him. "Sorry. What are you two doing?"

T.J. looked at Rush and smiled. She was smiling at  _Rush_. "New tactic," she explained.

_Baby, I've been here before. I know this room, I've walked this floor. I used to live alone before I knew you._

"Walking around in the middle of the night?"

"Yeah. He sleeps mostly during the day because he can't sleep at night. I'm trying to wear him out and get his sleep cycle reset."

Genius. "And?"

Rush looked exhausted, but not suicidal. His movements were very slow, probably still painful, but he seemed more at peace tonight. "Well, this is our first night trying it, but I think it's working," T.J. said.

Rush looked like he was trying to nod.

_I've seen your flag on the marble arch. Love is not a victory march, it's a cold and it's a broken…_

"Hallelujah," said Everett.

They gave him a strange look. He shook his head. "We're just going to make a couple more rounds and then go back so he can sleep it off," T.J. told him. "Did you need something, sir?"

He could only shake his head. "Nope. Seems like we had similar ideas, though. I can't sleep either."

She offered him a lopsided smile. "Oh, I'm all out of sleep aids, unfortunately. I gave the last of it to Rush a few nights ago."

Rush didn't say anything. Didn't even apologize.

 _And why should he?_ his obnoxious mind demanded.

"Don't worry about it," Everett said. "I'll be fine."

She nodded and bade him good night, then put one hand on Rush's shoulder and the other around his I.V. pole, gently guiding him along.

Everett wanted to follow, but he had no real reason to go to the infirmary, so he lingered behind as they went away without sparing him another glance. It was dark and his eyes weren't what they used to be, but he could swear Rush was smiling at whatever story T.J. was telling as they walked. He was smiling at  _T.J._  Rush and T.J. were smiling at each other. When did this become a thing?

_And all I ever learned from love was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you._

Tea sounded good. He needed some tea. Or maybe some of Brody's white lightning.

—

Back in the infirmary some time later, Tamara felt lighter than she had in days. Rush had tolerated their little outing better than she could have hoped, and now he was out cold, really sleeping, not restlessly waking every ten minutes like he had been. She wished she had thought of this sooner. She thought that she could even sleep too, if she tried.

But here came Colonel Young. She rose with a smile to greet him, picking her way carefully through the dim light. "Hey," she whispered. "It worked. He's passed out, and it looks like he will be for awhile."

He nodded with a very small smile. "Good. That's good."

"Sir, you should get some sleep too. You don't look well." It was true, but she was also hoping he would take the hint and go so  _she_  could sleep. She wanted to catch some rest in case Rush woke up in the night again. He nodded, but didn't answer. The silence stretched on, and she waited for him to say something, or do something, or ask something. "Sir?"

"You look happy, T.J."

She couldn't fight a smile. "Well, it's nice for him to get some sleep for once. This is the most he's gotten in days."

"So you like taking care of him?"

That was an odd question, and now she couldn't fight a frown. "I'm sorry, I don't know what you mean."

He shrugged. "Nothing, it just seems like you've been with him for so long that you've gotten…attached."

No way. He wasn't seriously going there. For the first time, she detected the smell of alcohol about him. And here she thought his red eyes were just from being tired. She deepened her scowl, biting back, "He's my patient. He saved my life. I've spent the last five years trapped on this ship with him. Of  _course_  I'm attached."

"So you love him."

He went there. Her mouth fell open. " _What_?"

He didn't back down. "You love him. I can tell." She opened her mouth to answer, but he continued, "It's okay, I mean, it's not like he's a total idiot all the time. Plus didn't Lieutenant James say there's nothing sexier than a widower?"

A furious heat spread from her head to her toes. "Good night," she hissed. She turned around and went back to Rush's side and made a show of covering him over with a blanket.

He didn't leave. He watched her from the doorway. "You can admit it to me, you know."

She reeled around to face him again. "I said good night!" She didn't mean to shout it, but the colonel jumped and she felt Rush jolt under her hand. Rush groaned, and she turned and watched him sit up holding his head. "Oh, no, no, no…" She put her fingers gently on his shoulders, trying to get him to lie back. "Rush, it's okay, I'm sorry, everything's okay, go back to sleep." He shook his head with a grunt, gritting his teeth. She thought she would weep. "Rush, I'm sorry, please, I'm sorry, sleep, it's okay…"

Rush leaned over the edge of the bed and tried to vomit, but he hadn't eaten in so long that there was nothing to purge.

She heard Colonel Young swear clumsily. "T.J., I'm sorry," he said.

She spun to face him, pointing at the door. "Just go!" She watched him leave, then looked back to Rush, who was gripping his hair and gasping. She snatched his pain medicine from the table, scrambling to unscrew the lid, and shoved it toward him. "Here, take as much as you need."

He took it in shaking hands and gave himself a double dose. It was a horrifically long time before he was able to relax, and she spent it massaging his head and neck and combatting with the rage burning in her eyes. When he finally fell back against the bed, she brushed the hair away from his forehead, holding her breath and biting her lip.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. She didn't know if he heard her. His breathing was steadying out, and in time he was asleep again. She stayed at his side the rest of the night, alternating between fits of unrestrained weeping and just staring at nothing. Several times she just checked out, and only when Rush would shift in is sleep would she come back to herself.

The night dragged on and on. She thought maybe the synthetic daytime lighting was failing, but every time she checked her watch she found out only a half hour had passed, at most. The darkness was deeper tonight. Lonelier, more painful. She was in agony for it to end. There were no windows in the infirmary, something she often lamented. Her only light was artificial. And for some reason, it seemed very dim tonight.

She felt her breathing thicken. Suddenly she was claustrophobic. Everywhere she looked was blackness, and she stood from her chair to get her bearings. It felt like she was trying to breathe underwater. She felt the weight of the darkness closing her in. "Rush?" she whispered timorously, the selfish part of her hoping he'd answer. He didn't. There was no sound at all.

No sound. She couldn't hear him breathing. Her heart leaped into her throat and she reached down, but the bed was gone. The clicking of the I.V. was absent as well. She panted, wheeling around with her hands out, desperate to feel something, to see something, to hear something, but there was nothing. It was just her in the darkness. Everything was gone. Everyone was gone.

Something in the night went  _clang!_  and Tamara jerked upright in her chair, squinting blearily against the light of the simulated daytime. There was a hiss from somewhere to her left and she turned, disoriented, blinking, unable to understand anything. A metal tray was on the floor. And a mug. A puddle of water. A bowl, half its contents oozing out. Her arms were folded over the surface of the table by Rush's head. She raised her eyes to see him on the bed, sitting up with his eyes set apologetically on her. Colonel Young stood there at Rush's bedside, gazing at her with a grimace. She felt her anger flare.

"What-"

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant, that was me," Rush said. She stared at him, not comprehending. He gestured to the mess on the floor. "I don't know what happened. I lost my grip."

Her gaze tracked down, and the pieces slowly began to fit in their places.  _A dream?_  "Oh, um…it's okay. Umm…"

"T.J.?" Young said, shifting awkwardly. He looked awful, like he hadn't slept. "You all right?"

Was she? Rising from her chair, she said, "Well, I think so. What's going on here?" She indicated the tray and water.

"Just trying to get Rush to eat something," Young explained with a shrug. "You were asleep."

She looked to Rush, who was studying her like he couldn't figure out why she was acting so weird. "Oh. Thank you. Rush, you lost your grip?"

He nodded, looking at his hands. They were shaking. She took them in both of hers.

"How's your grip strength? Can you squeeze?"

He made a token effort, but his grip was pathetic. Like a dead fish handshake. She smiled anyway, squeezing gently back before letting him go. Colonel Young crouched down and began cleaning up the spill, scooping everything back onto the tray.

"Thank you, Colonel, but don't worry about bringing any more," Rush said. "I don't think I can eat just now."

The colonel looked disappointed, but he just nodded. He looked at Tamara. "T.J., can we talk?"

She looked at Rush, who shrugged his permission. She tasted bile as she followed the colonel out into the hall, and she stood apart from him with her arms crossed. He looked uncomfortable, as well he should; he kept sighing and darting his eyes around. It was the same look he had when he'd told her he was breaking it off to go back to his wife. At the memory, her heart sank to her stomach.

"What's this about, Colonel? I have a patient to tend to."

That seemed to get his mind back on track. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Look, T.J., I'm sorry about last night. I don't know what got into me."

She snorted. "Brody's moonshine, by the smell of it."

He grimaced. "Yeah, there's that. Listen, I don't know where that came from. I want to apologize. It was uncalled-for."

She nodded, touched that he'd taken the time to come by, but admittedly still hurt and shaken. "Okay."

"So…can you forgive me?"

She wanted to smile. She really did. She wanted to assure him and console him but she didn't have it in her. So instead she nodded, saying, "Yes, sir."

He looked less than comforted. But he knew he had to take what he could get, so he gave a sad little smile of his own and took his leave. When he was gone, she returned to Rush, who didn't even pretend that he wasn't watching.

"Trouble in paradise?" he asked. She just sat beside him and sighed.

"What else is new?"

He stared at his hands. "Was it him you were yelling at last night?"

She groaned, having hoped he wouldn't remember that. "Yeah," she was quick to apologize. "I'm so sorry, Rush. I didn't mean for that to happen. That was so embarrassing and it…it shouldn't have happened."

He shrugged, shaking his head. "Don't worry about it. Sorry I woke you."

She smiled. "Don't be sorry. It's probably a good thing. Can't get anything done if I'm snoozing on the job."

His mouth curved just slightly.

"How about you? How did you sleep, eventually?"

The curve got a little bigger. "Throughout the night. It was a good idea you had."

"Yeah?" she said. "What do you say we make it a date every night?"

He rewarded her with an amused snort. She grinned. It may not have been in the way the colonel insinuated, but he wasn't entirely wrong: she did love Rush. She acknowledged that now. Bonus, she liked him. He turned to look at her, and the smile he gave her was genuine. "It's a date, then."

—

Everett had woken up to the same headache he'd gone to sleep with. He wanted to blame the alcohol. He wanted to blame the stress. He wanted to blame the insomnia he had suddenly developed. But these were only symptoms, side effects of a bigger problem he couldn't fix, and he wasn't used to being unable to fix problems. There was always a solution. He was not accustomed to situations in which he had no say, where things just happened whether he allowed them to or not. The universe was built on rules. Planets and stars followed certain laws. People followed orders. And he was used to being the one who gave the orders. He hated each day he lived through now, where he had no influence, no authority, no clout. He'd lost control. And he had no way to get it back. He'd lost control over everything, including his ability to  _regain_  control, and over even himself. Nothing made sense anymore.

He really felt bad about his behavior in the infirmary last night. He hadn't been himself. Or… _heaven forbid_...had he? It was getting harder and harder to ignore. Was that him? Was that the Real Everett? That brute had come to the surface several times since boarding  _Destiny_  despite Everett's best efforts to bear him down. The time he'd pinned Spencer to the wall came to mind. When he'd attacked Telford. The time he beat up Rush and left him on the planet. The time he beat up Rush on the alien ship after learning about the bridge. The time he'd almost vaulted over a console at Rush after Rivers was killed by Kiva.

 _I_ _nteresting._  It did seem like the worst of it happened when Rush was involved. It was Everett's nature to protect, to support, but when it came to Nicholas Rush, all of his instincts seemed to change. And it was so, so easy to surrender to his savage streak. He turned into someone to be protected from. How many times had he hurt him? How many times had he wanted to? Why was that so often his first impulse?  _Once is a mistake, twice is a pattern._  What did that mean then? That it wasn't his nature to help, but just to  _react_? For better or worse? He had always considered himself a caring man. He liked to think people could trust him. But he had to admit, he couldn't overlook the irony that the crew had spent an entire day trying to prove he wasn't a murderer just for him to turn around and try to kill Rush at the end of it all.

This was all Rush's fault. The man was working his way like a splinter into every stupid little parcel of Everett's life and he couldn't dig him out. He kept him awake at night and distracted during the day, a nagging pain that wouldn't let up. He was even infringing on his relationship with T.J. Rush dared accuse  _him_  of taking a last revenge? If anything he was trying to cause as much misery for the colonel as he could before he finally croaked, and Everett was starting to feel like that couldn't happen quickly enough. He was glad Rush was dying. He hated Rush. He hated this ship. He hated his job.

He might have hated himself slightly more.

A knock on his door halted his furious pacing. He stood in the middle of his floor and glanced to his reflection in the mirror. Wild hair, red eyes, flushed skin, minimal sleep and a hangover. He looked like death. "Who is it?"

"It's T.J."

Of course it was. Why hadn't she called him instead? He dashed to his bedside, splashing some water on his face from a glass he had there. He smushed down his insubordinate curls and wiped his face with his shirt, then checked the mirror again. Better. Not good, but better. He went to the door and opened it, standing to the side.

T.J. strolled in. "Colonel," she greeted him.

"Lieutenant," he said, wondering if that was the right thing to call her. He didn't know how to read her right now. Her voice was cool, her face guarded. He couldn't tell what sort of mood she was in, though he had an idea. She waited for permission to stand at ease, and he let her set the tone, gesturing to the room for her to find a place to put herself. She perched on his desk. That helped. She was feeling informal enough not to hover by the door, but she had chosen the farthest possible spot away from him to sit. At least now he had a baseline.

He closed the door and opted for the bench at the foot of his bed. He was exhausted, and for once the mattress looked terrifically inviting, but relaxing there might come across as some sort of inappropriate invitation or imply that he wasn't prepared for an adult discussion. He sat stiffly, hands at his sides, conscious of her eyes on him. When no one spoke for a minute, he asked, "Where's Rush?"

She stretched her neck, lolling her head from side to side. "Varro is helping him take a shower. I'm hoping it'll loosen him up and help him relax a little better."

He nodded. "Good idea."

"It's nice to have a man assisting in the infirmary. I think it helps put some of the men on the ship more at ease."

Everett didn't think many of the men really cared, but he nodded anyway. "Yeah, maybe, even though it's a man who tried to take the ship over." He said it with a smile, but his comment only hit a stone wall.

"He's come a long way from when we first met him," she remarked staidly. "He's done a lot for us."

He nodded, cringing inside.

"He's helped me a lot in particular."

"I know."

"He saved my life."

He nodded again, but he was beginning to wonder if she was still talking about Varro. Probably not.

Just then she stood, crossing her arms and frowning at him. He bristled by instinct. "Colonel, will all due respect, what is  _wrong_  with you?"

Okay, he deserved that.

"I am trying to take care of a very sick man," she continued. "He's weak and in a lot of pain. He needs rest when he can get it. He doesn't have much longer..." Her voice cut off, and her face twisted up as tears sprang suddenly to her eyes. It occurred to him how tenuously she was holding herself together. He watched her cover her mouth and try to breathe, and he was preparing to cross the room and reach for her when she choked out, "And you are not making it easier."

He hung his head, feeling very small. "I know, T.J., and I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry. I wish I could undo it."

She appeared to make an effort to settle herself, folding her arms again. "Do you mind explaining what that was all about last night?"

He minded very much, thanks, and he wasn't sure he understood it enough himself to try to articulate it to her. T.J. and Rush getting cozy was a prospect that had never before crossed his mind, and even now, even then, he knew it wasn't really true, but the sight had so nettled him that he'd wanted to chase Rush down in the hallway and chew him out for monopolizing T.J.'s attention and equipment and causing everyone so much trouble. The still-sane part of his mind knew that was totally irrational and impelled him to find a necessary distraction. Truth was, he  _didn't_  hate Rush. Not really. It was just easier to pretend that he did to avoid dealing with all the little emotions that  _caring_  dragged in with it. He was tired of being helpless, tired of having to deal with problems that had no solution, tired of waiting for something terrible to happen that he couldn't stop. He was sick of how hard everything had become. He was sick of the man he'd turned into, sick of the anger, sick of the fear, sick of the guilt, sick of fighting. Sick of facing himself. He just wanted things back the way they were. That's how he'd wound up in the distillery. Alcohol had served him well in the past; it did a remarkable job of silencing that little voice telling him he should just go back to bed, forget what he saw, and not start stupid fights even though that would be a problem he could actually manage at a time when he really needed to be able to manage something. He never remembered until too late just how ugly the aftermath was. And he was dealing with it now.

He ruffled his curls and sighed. "I don't know. Okay? I just didn't like seeing you and him together like that."

"We are not 'together'," she snapped.

"I know. I didn't mean it like that. There's just a whole lot going on right now. I really can't explain it."

She kept her frown. "So you don't really have an excuse, then?"

He watched her. She held her ground. Finally, he sighed. "No. I guess I don't. I was completely out of line."

"I mean, you don't actually think that, do you?" she pressed. "Because you know that's absolutely ridiculous."

She really knew how to drive a nail. He nodded, saying, "I know."

She continued to stare at him. Those blue eyes in that pretty face could sometimes look so menacing.

"I'll behave," he promised, smiling weakly and hoping to reach her through the icy shell she'd put up.

She just nodded. "Please don't make this harder for me, Colonel. Or for him. I don't care how you feel about him. You have no idea what he's really going through."

That was probably extremely true. He nodded, solemn once again. He was so tired. He needed a shower, and a nap, and a meal. "You're right. You're right. I'll try harder."

"It's not like you'll have to play nice for much longer anyway," she added as if he hadn't spoken, biting her lip to keep it from trembling.

He cursed inwardly. How was she doing this? She was normally the strong one, the solid one, and here she was on the edge of a razor, looking like a light breeze would send her plummeting to the ground where she would simply…shatter. He wished he could spare her all of this.

"How…how long do you think it'll be?" he cautiously asked.

She averted her eyes, staring at something on the far wall. Or perhaps not even seeing it. Those pretty blue eyes filled up with tears again. "Not long," she whispered. "I'm expecting either today or tomorrow."

It felt like a foot in his gut. So soon. He hadn't realized. "T.J…"

"I can't save him. The next best thing I can do is make this easy for him. That's all I want."

"I understand." He dared to step closer to her, and when she didn't send him away, he tenderly took her into his arms. "I'm so sorry you have to deal with this. If there's anything I can do, I want to do it. Trust me. How can I help?"

Her hands locked together between his shoulder blades, and she pulled him in tighter. She was trembling. He thought she might shake herself to pieces. "Just don't let go for awhile."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath of her hair. It had probably been some days since she'd had a shower, but he didn't mind. He just liked the scent of her. He didn't say anything. He just held on, afraid that if he let go she would fall apart for good.


	16. Chapter 16

Chloe was waiting on Rush's bed in the infirmary, swinging her legs anxiously when Rush returned fresh from a shower. He was pale, being half-carried by Varro, but he smiled a little when he saw her. She grinned and helped get him settled before turning to his helper.

"Is everything ready?" she asked. Varro nodded.

"We'll be there shortly."

"Okay."

"You need any help with him?"

She shook her head, noticing how Rush frowned. "Nope. I've got it. We'll meet you there." With a nod to her and to Rush he went away. She watched him leave, then waited another full minute to make sure they were alone. Pulling the chair closer to the bed, she sat and asked, "How are you?"

He gave her a curious frown. "Fine. What's going on?"

She smiled. From under the collar of her shirt she tugged out a jewel dangling on a wire chain. It swayed in the air at the tips of her fingers, uncut but perfectly clear, sparkling, with tiny flames of every color leaping below the surface like something alive. She watched his eyes flicker with mild fascination. "This came from one of the planets we visited last month," she told him. Then she grinned. "Matt's asked me to marry him."

He shook his head with a tired smile. "That took longer than I expected."

She grinned. "Better late than never, right?"

"So they say."

She rose from the chair and leaned over him, swaddling him in her arms. He did not hesitate to hold her back.

"Congratulations, Chloe."

"Thank you." She sat down again and cleared her throat. "I want to show you something else too. Think you're up for a little field trip?"

He looked at her inquisitively, then at the floor. He was probably trying to determine if getting off the bed again would be worth the trouble. "To where?"

"Just the mess hall. There's something happening there and I think you should see it."

"What is it?"

She smiled, knowing she was probably about to lose him. "Something like an engagement party."

He quirked a brow. "Something like?"

"Well...it's a little more than that."

He shook his head. "I dunno, Chloe, I'm not..."

"Please," she said. "It'll be worth it, I promise."

She knew parties really were not his thing, especially in his condition, and it was a long shot, but she had to try. The longer he frowned at her, the more discouraged she felt.

"You don't have to stay long," she said. "We can come right back. But I really...want you there." She bit her lip.

He sighed and rubbed his head. "Okay."

Chloe jumped up from the chair and helped him slide off the bed, then eased into his side and wrapped one of his arms around her shoulders. Her other arm went around his waist. It was convenient that she was at least as tall as he was, and they probably weighed about the same now. Onward they went, at his nod.

The Mess was packed. Cheers hailed them as soon as the bulkhead opened, and the crowd converged on them at once. Rush flinched and moved like he was trying to pull away, but she just gently guided him in and deposited him at the table closest to the door. Doctor Park greeted her with a hug.

Matt came to stand at her side and nodded at Rush with a smile. "Convinced him to come, huh?" he whispered to her.

"Yeah, barely. I don't expect much out of him, though."

Another hug, this time from Corporal Barnes. Eli was waiting behind her with a grin. It did good things for Chloe's heart to see him so happy after what had happened to Ginn. She remembered laughing at the prospect at first, but she really loved Barnes. She was a sweetheart.

Greer came and crushed Matt's ribs in a bear hug, hefting him into the air with a roaring laugh. He came for her next, though he was much gentler. "I  _am_  the best man, right?" he asked earnestly. " _Tell_  me I'm the best man."

Matt slapped him on the back with a sputtering sound. "Of course you're the best man. I'd never live it down."

A thousand more embraces followed with an inordinate number of congratulations. She could see people talking to Rush too, glad they were all so far heeding her warning to give him space. Don't touch him, she'd told them. Just be there. Rush looked confused and uncomfortable, but she could tell he was making a try for patience.

"Where are Colonel Young and T.J?" she asked Matt.

He shrugged. "I dunno. They're not responding to the radio, so wherever they are, they're probably together."

Chloe scrunched up her face in disappointment. "They'll hear all about it, I'm sure."

"Eli brought a kino."

She could see the little ball whizzing through the air. She smiled. "Of course he did."

Someone put some music on. The men clinked their drinks. The women fawned over her gem. She wasn't even sure what to call it, really. It might have been a diamond, but she wasn't sure if the planet it came from had even remotely the same minerals as Earth. It was probably something she would get to name herself. That was exciting. She was so lost in the activity that she almost missed Rush sitting with his head hunched over, his hands over his ears.  _Too loud_ , she remembered suddenly. Biting her lip, she crouched next to him.

"Nick," she said softly, and put one of her hands over his. He looked at her, blinking a lot. "I'm sorry, are you okay?"

He nodded, but he didn't look okay. "I think it's time to go back."

_No, not yet._  She pushed down a rise of guilt, knowing full well that it was selfish. "Do you think you could hold on for just a few more minutes? I really want you to see something."

He closed his eyes and just nodded. She stood again, rubbing his neck, wondering if she should go get his painkillers from the infirmary. But Eli took notice, and he darted around the room shushing people. The music was turned down to a more appropriate level, and little by little Rush was able to peel his hands away from his ears.

"Better?" she whispered.

He nodded. "Yeah." He gazed around the room for a moment, taking it all in. Then he looked up at her. "What's this about, Chloe?"

She smiled. "Just watch for a minute."

Ron and Park took a seat at a table across the room with Brody and Volker. Varro and Lieutenant James had come also, standing very close to each other by the opposite door, flirting and smiling and oblivious to everyone. Eli and Barnes cuddled up at the next table. Other civilians and soldiers were teeming about, laughing loudly, telling jokes, dancing around the tables. People kept coming by to give Chloe their blessings, and someone made a toast. Rush kept silent, watching impassively.

"See all these people?" Chloe said at length so only he could hear. "Look closely. See their faces? See how happy they are?"

He turned and stared at her curiously.

She grinned at him. "This is the joy you have brought to these people. This was you, Doctor Rush."

He shook his head as if that was ridiculous and shrugged the comment off his back. "You found each other. I had nothing to do with it."

"We never would have otherwise," she countered. She looked to her fiancé, who was standing next to Greer, cackling about something or other. She smiled. "I never would have found Matt. I don't know what I'd do without him."

"You would have found someone else."

"I don't  _want_  someone else," she said. Sometimes he was so difficult. "He's my missing half. What we have is impossible to find twice."

He said nothing. She watched him stroke his hand where his ring used to be.

"This is because of you. Without you, none of this would have happened." She knelt down on the floor in front of him and took his hands, just like he had done for her. Looking into his eyes, she said, "I want you to know something. In a month from now, a year, fifty years, I'm going to look back on all this and I'm going to have a choice to make about how I want to remember it. There's no denying that a lot happened out here, good and bad. But this, right now, is what I want to remember, and I wanted you to be a part of it. We all came to thank you for bringing us here."

He frowned, instantly mistrustful, so she said it again, rubbing his knuckles with her thumbs.

"Thank you for dialing the ninth chevron."

Something dark crossed his face. He jerked his hands away and got himself gawkily to his feet, looking on the verge of an outburst as he glanced around the room. "Is that a joke?"

She wasn't expecting that. She stood in worry. "No. No, Nick, what?"

"Are they here to mock me?" he asked. He turned his eyes on her, and they were sharp and deadly. "Why did you bring me here? To taunt me? To throw it in my face again?"

"No..." She didn't know what to do. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. "No, I'm serious, this is just-"

"Stop," he snapped in a tone he'd never used with her before. "Why don't you just tell me what we're really doing? That's why you're here, isn't it?"

"What?"

He pressed a hand against his temple. "I lost last time, remember?"

"What are you talking about?"

He did not look right, holding his head with one hand while the other kept him upright on the table, looking around the room like it was full of snakes. He seemed to be having trouble breathing. "I don't believe you."

She frowned, lost. "Nick…"

"It's not the right color anyway."

She stared at him. She couldn't keep up with this conversation, couldn't follow the erratic detours his mind kept taking. "Nick," she whispered, stepping forward. He recoiled, moving around to keep the table between them.

People were starting to notice. The dull roar had become hushed murmurs, and everyone was turning to stare. It only agitated him more. Matt began to make his way over, wisely choosing a slow, non-threatening pace. Rush released the table and managed to stand on his own two feet. There was nothing between him and the door, and he glanced over his shoulder as if preparing to run. Chloe knew he'd never make it. The moment he tried he would be on the ground, and that would only make this entire thing worse.

Matt stopped at her side and whispered, "Chloe, I think you should get behind me."

That scared her. She shook her head. "No, Matt, he's not going to hurt me." She took a tiny step toward Rush and said, "Nick, please, it's okay-"

"Stay away from me," he said, and she didn't know who he thought she was, but he was looking at her like he'd never seen her before.

"Rush, it's  _me_ -"

"I said stay back!"

Eli was suddenly at her elbow. "I called T.J.," he whispered so quietly that she almost missed it.

"What's wrong with him?" she worried. She'd never seen Rush like this before. He was almost falling now, both arms coiled around himself, head bowed forward. She wanted to go to him, but despite what she'd just told Matt, she was afraid.

"I don't know," Eli said. He was squirming like he wanted to do something too. "This has been happening lately. Something wrong with his brain..."

Rush reached for the table again and missed, folding to his knees on the floor beside it. His strength was failing.

This was her fault. She made him come. She felt so guilty she could cry. She watched him huddle into himself and cover his ears against the whispers, unable to run, trying to hide. She finally rallied her courage and moved to shield him from their eyes, daring to kneel at his side and pull him into her arms. He fought to get away, but he was weakening, and she kept a firm grip and drew him back, laying one arm across his shoulders with her other hand on the back of his head. He ended up just listing forward, his face on her shoulder while she rubbed his back. Eli came with Matt and Ron to serve as an additional screen against curious stares.

"Chloe, what's happening?" Rush finally asked. He was shaking.

"Shhh," she said. "It's okay. You're on  _Destiny_."

The familiar refrain seemed to have an effect. She felt him nod. He lifted a hand to his head and released a small complaint of discomfort. "What's going on?"

"It's okay," she said. He tried to move away, but she just held him tighter. "It's okay, I'm sorry, it's okay, you're okay."

"Take me back," he whispered.

"Okay." She helped him stand, and they did not look behind as they left. They were joined halfway there by T.J, who helped Chloe practically carry him back to the infirmary. Once he was back on a bed with the I.V. reattached, Chloe insisted that she was able to stay there with him and practically kicked T.J. out again after a brief explanation of what had occurred. When they were alone, she sat in the chair by the bed.

It was quiet for awhile. She could tell he was embarrassed by the way he sat with his eyes closed, but she was even more so. "Are you..." She watched his hands go rigid and curl into fists. She bit her lip. "Are you okay?"

He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and relaxed. But he didn't answer.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't know that would happen."

He shook his head and opened his eyes. "Neither did I. I'm sorry about your party."

"No, that's okay. Look, I want to explain what was going on. We were just trying to show you that we were grateful. Everyone criticizes you for bringing us here, but I'm pretty sure no one has ever thanked you for it."

He chuckled dryly and coughed. She handed him a cup of water, and he drank. "You're right about that." Then he shifted his eyes contritely to her. "I thought it was a joke. I didn't think anyone really felt grateful."

"That's not your fault."

He shrugged.

"We do, though," she assured him. "Those people in there came to show you how happy they are in spite of everything. We are all choosing to remember the good things that happened, and the best thing of all was coming here in the first place."

He stared at her. He searched her face as if seeking the lie, obviously still doubtful.

She took his hand. "It's true," she told him seriously. "Every word."

He stared a moment longer, before dropping his eyes and nodding. "In that case, perhaps you could beg their forgiveness on my behalf for being such a killjoy."

She smiled. "I will." Shifting in the chair, she asked, "So…can you tell me what happened after?"

"What do you mean?"

"You were saying strange things. Something wasn't the right color?"

He stared blankly at her. "What wasn't the right color?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. That's what you said."

He snorted and shrugged. "I haven't a clue."

Chloe just gave a smile she didn't feel.

He rubbed his eyes with his fingers. "Shouldn't you be going back to your party now?"

She shook her head. "Brody brought the booze. I can't stand the stuff, so if I go back I'll be the one having to drag everyone out of there. No, thank you. I'll go back when someone else shows up who can help me move bodies."

He laughed a little. "Let it never be said that Chloe Armstrong is not an intelligent person."

She grinned. "Soon to be Chloe Scott," she said with a nudge to his shoulder.

"Indeed." His smile got serious, just a little. "I am happy for you, you know."

She began to rub his head. "I know."

He closed his eyes with a sigh, and though they were externally quiet, her mind was in utter chaos.

—

"What was that all about?" Colonel Young asked when Tamara found him on the bridge. She had checked his room first.

"Rush had another episode," she said. The colonel was sitting on the stairs instead of the command chair, just gazing out through the windows. She came around and sat beside him, and he gave her an expectant look. "He's okay now."

He nodded, probably knowing Rush was, in fact, not "okay", but she knew that he knew what she meant. He put his arm around her and pulled her close, and she leaned in against him. "What's all the commotion?"

"A party," she said. "Chloe and Matt are engaged."

He whistled. "It's about time."

She laughed. "We probably shouldn't have ignored the radios."

"Probably not."

"We should go make an appearance."

"Soon," he told her. "Soon."

She didn't answer. She felt him moving, and before she realized what he was doing he was sitting behind her, running his fingers through her hair. Her skin prickled and she shivered; she'd forgotten how nice that felt.

"So what does this do, exactly?" he wondered. "I've seen you playing with Rush's hair a lot lately."

She could feel weeks of stress melting away. "Well, it's relaxing, for one thing. Tension is bad for anyone."

"Hm," he said, skimming his fingers down her neck. "What else?"

"It stimulates blood flow."

"In the brain?" She could hear the skepticism in his voice.

"No," she said with a light laugh. "In the scalp. Massaging the head and neck helps circulation."

"Ah." He continued for awhile, gradually working his way down to her shoulders. She was close to falling asleep when he spoke again. "So what do you plan to do when you get home?"

She had to think hard past the drowsiness that had been setting in. She shook her head. "I don't know. My plans were so clear before, but it's so hard knowing I only have a few years left." It  _was_  hard knowing it. It was hard talking about it. He made some kind of noise that she couldn't identify. "I could try for my scholarship again but I don't know if I would even have a chance to graduate. I could work for the Red Cross or something. It's weird knowing the future, even if that future is in the past."

"Hmm," he said noncommittally. "Are you still going to resign?"

"Absolutely," she said without hesitating. "I'll find a way to fill my time that doesn't involve this. What about you?"

He paused. "I don't know. Telford and a whole new team are going to be taking over  _Destiny_  when we get back. I'll probably be fired, and even if I'm not I'm going to resign. My house has probably been foreclosed on, unless Emily took it in the divorce, and my credit is probably in the toilet. But," he continued a little more cheerily, "I have been getting paid for five years without spending anything so that should give me some time to make up my mind."

She smiled even though he couldn't see. "Sounds like a good plan."

"But wherever I go….I want you there with me."

She stiffened. He didn't stop moving his hands, and for a moment she thought she had imagined it. When she slowly moved to look at him, the look in his eyes told her she hadn't. "What?"

"I love you," he said. "Will you marry me?"

She gaped at him. Was he actually asking her this? For real? She blinked at him. He seemed to realize her dilemma, but he may have misinterpreted it, for he drew his hands back and looked away, clearing his throat. "Sir," she croaked out. That wasn't her voice. "Are you actually…?"

He rested his hands on his knees and gave her a very cautious smile. "Yes, Lieutenant," he said. "I am asking if you will be my wife."

Her mind was screaming, but her voice was frozen in her throat. She wanted it, she wanted it so badly, to be only his, to be with him forever, but in that moment she was staggered once again by how short forever would be. Her symptoms would begin to manifest within a few years. It wasn't long enough, not nearly. And after what she'd told him the other day about her family, she couldn't endure the thought of putting  _him_  through that too. One more heart to be found wanting.

"Sir, I don't know..."

It was obviously not the answer he was hoping for. The smile died on his lips, replaced by a tight pain. He just nodded and took a breath. "Okay. Okay, um..." He smiled again, insincerely. "No harm in trying, right?"

She shook her head. "No, Colonel, it's not like that. It's not that I don't...that I don't love you..." His expression of relief made it harder to look at him. She swallowed back her tears. "Because I do...I really do, it's just that..."

"You're sick," he finished.

She nodded. "Yeah."

"I know that, T.J. It doesn't make a difference. I want to spend the rest of your life making you happy." He took her hand and kissed it. "Will do you me that honor?"

She almost caved. Emotion welled up and strangled her again. "But what about in a couple of years when…?" she began.

"Hey," he said. "In sickness and in health, remember?" Then he froze as the same thought that struck her struck him too. He cleared his throat. "Strange, I know, coming from a guy who cheated on his wife."

She awkwardly averted her gaze. That was the other problem. It wasn't just that she wanted to spare him her sickness; she wanted to spare herself the possibility that her sickness would drive him to another woman, the way he had been driven to her. They had started their relationship in the shadows, in transgression of the holy oath he had made to the woman he had pledged to love alone. When Tamara deteriorated so much that she couldn't move, couldn't eat on her own, couldn't speak, how could she really, really know he would be there for her and not in the arms – or the bed – of someone else? She pitied Emily in that moment.

He sighed. "T.J., I know I've made mistakes. But I swear that I would do all things in my power to make you as happy as you can be. All I want is the chance. I can be a better man, I promise."

Promises. There were so many promises going around these days, and they were all being broken. "Can I think about it?" she ventured.

He looked like he was trying to hide his disappointment, but he nodded. "Of course you can. You know where you can always find me."

"Yeah."

He got to his feet. "Why don't we go make our appearance?"

She didn't move. She turned to look out the windows and said, "Actually, Colonel, I think I'll stay here for awhile if that's okay."

She couldn't see his face and couldn't judge his reaction when he said, "Of course," but his voice was hollow, and he went away with nothing further. She sat alone on the metal stairs with her hands folded under her chin. Thoughts of the colonel were too painful right now, too overwhelming, so she studied the stars for a while instead. They were so beautiful. And they were different all the time. They were out of FTL for the moment, just drifting, and it gave her a rare chance to really center on just  _how big_  the universe was, how brilliant, how terrifying. It went on forever.

_Some things don't end._

She pulled herself to her feet and crossed the floor to one of the chairs closer to the glass to get a better view. She remembered one night she and Eli were sitting on the observation deck, assigning names to every star and constellation they could find. They were at it for hours.

" _That's the Big Brody,"_  Eli had said, pointing out one that looked similar to the Big Dipper. With a grin at her, he explained,  _"Drinking from the distillery of the Whisky Way."_

She remembered laughing. It felt so good to laugh, and it was so easy with Eli. The kid was a gem. There had been many good moments like that, more than she actually remembered. Not for the first time, she said a prayer of thanks for him and his stupid kinos. She had short-sightedly failed to see the value of those things at first, but now to her they were priceless. She wanted to remember this trek across the unknown universe. No one else ever had or would see the things she'd seen. She'd done so much. Gone through so much.

Lost so much.

Found so much.

It was impossible to reconcile. For every gain there was a loss, and for every loss there was a gain. She would return to Earth with no more or less than she left with. There had been many times out here that she felt destitute, devoid of everything she had ever loved, while simultaneously feeling so full that she could burst. It was exhausting trying to keep up with it all. She felt it now. She  _wanted_ , but she didn't know what. Some of her felt so impossibly happy that she wondered if she'd gone mad, while the other part was so miserable that she wished to go to sleep and never wake up. She didn't know if it was a blessing or a curse to know about her ALS. She was glad to have come this far, but she felt cheated out of the time she  _didn't_  have left. Maybe she just wanted, in spite of it all, to be happy.

She'd knew she'd been given a gift. She'd been given one last chance to find happiness. She would be able to spend the last of her years at home where she truly wanted to be, thanks to the dubious kindness of a man she both hated and loved. Whether or not he did it for her seemed of little consequence anymore. The fact was that she owed him now, and the only way to repay what he'd done was to make the most of the time she had left. Stop looking behind. Embrace what she'd been given. Remember the losses but cherish the promise of what was to come. No regrets.

_What am I doing?_

She would start now.

–

It seemed like Volker had been talking for a very long time. Nick couldn't remember half of what he'd already said, and he was pretty sure the man's voice was the cause of his present throbbing headache. So far, all he'd managed to glean from the monologue was that they still didn't like each other. No news there. He didn't have the energy to be impatient, so he just sat and tried to listen past the pounding in his head while Volker paced circles around the bed.

"-and I know that's just the way you are," Volker carried on.  _What is? Huh?_  "I've never understood how some people can be so naturally miserable, but maybe it's just because some people are more prone to misery."

_What…?_  Nick shook his head, regretting it instantly, and reached for his painkillers. He made a mental note to get revenge on Chloe for leaving him here like this. He didn't know if she had a hand in it or if Volker had come on his own, but her smug little smile when she left made him suspicious.

"I'm not saying we need to be friends," Volker proceeded.  _What_ are _you saying?_  "I'm not asking for an apology. I'm not asking for anything. I'm just saying that we've both made mistakes and maybe it's time that we just put it all behind us and forget any of it ever happened."

"Water under the bridge," Nick managed.

"Exactly."

It was a fair suggestion. They hadn't really gotten along since the very first day on the ship, due in part to Nick's short temper and Volker's irritating personality. They'd insulted each other and pestered each other time and again. Nick sometimes felt little more than sheer annoyance for the man, but if he was honest with himself, most of the time he acted the way he did out of habit. He'd done it so long that it was just an old routine. But Volker was making an effort here. That was worth something. They couldn't start over, but they didn't have to continue. In sooth, they should have done this much sooner.

Dale was watching him. Nick realized he'd stopped talking, finally. Waiting for something. A response, a validation, an absolution. He nodded, slowly. "Yeah. I think you're right." And he was, wasn't he?

Volker gave an approving, lopsided smile. "Good. It's nice to be right now and then." Nick snorted and shook his head, fighting a small pull on his lips. Volker grinned and stood closer to the bed, reaching out his palm. "We good?"

What did he have to lose, really? Nick took his hand and shook it as firmly as he was able. "Yeah."

Dale nodded, then crossed his arms and looked at the door like he wanted to leave. Was it just him, or was it awkward in there? "So, you, uh...need some company? We could play chess or something."

He shook his head and rubbed his eyes. He was in no condition for chess, and he still had pride enough not to let himself be beaten by Dale Volker. "No, you go ahead. I could use some quiet right about now."

Volker feigned offense, throwing at him a mock glare. He gave it right back. "All right, well, I can't leave you by yourself. T.J. would bury me alive if she found out."

"Then I won't tell her you were here."

Volker raised an eyebrow. "You mean you'd cover for me?"

Nick smiled thinly. "A new spirit of cooperation?"

The man chuckled. "You got me there. Seriously, though..."

"I'll be all right. I haven't had any time alone since I don't know when. You'd be doing me a favor."

Volker still looked unsure, but finally he shrugged. "All right. You've got a radio, right?"

"Yep."

"Okay. If you need anything, call someone else."

"Most definitely."

Volker laughed on his way out the door. Nick watched him go, somehow knowing he would never see him again.

–

Tamara spotted the colonel talking with Matt and Chloe by the serving station with a bowl in his hand. The newly betrothed were both simply glowing, grins plastered across their faces as if chiseled out of them. They looked so  _happy_. Her heart thudded as she hurried to Colonel Young's side, clearing her throat to interrupt. If that was rude, no one mentioned it. She wouldn't have cared anyway.

"T.J.," said the colonel. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, can I talk to you for a second?"

He nodded, put his bowl down, and followed her out to the corridor. They walked a safe distance off where they wouldn't be distracted by the noise of the party. "What's going on-?"

She pulled him forward and kissed him. He seemed surprised at first, if his confused gasp was anything to go by, but he was adaptable and he was quickly kissing her too.

"I thought about it," she said into his mouth.

He held her tighter before drawing back. "So...yes?"

"Yes."

He smiled and cupped her jawline in both his hands, rubbing away her tears. She wrapped her arms around him and nestled her face in his neck.

"I promise that I will make you happy," he said.

"You already do," she whispered. He kissed her hair. "I want to spend the rest of my life with the people who make me the happiest, and I could never be happy without you."

He nodded. "Without you I'm lost."

They stood in silence, holding each other. What a strange thing,  _Destiny_. She hated this ship, but she loved what it gave her. She couldn't wait to get home, but she dreaded all she would lose when she arrived. She wished for time never to pass again. She wanted to stay here, like this, forever, in her little bubble of bliss where there was no fear, no pain, no lost children, no dying friends, no terminal illnesses. It was just her and her joy, and she wanted it never to end.

Eventually, the colonel - her fiancé - nudged her gently. "I have something for you."

She reluctantly pulled away, and he reached into his pocket to retrieve a small metal box. Inside was an otherworldly little gem like she'd never seen – the iridescence, the gleam, the way it bent light and turned it into something that was nearly magic. It glittered like snow in the sunlight, with rivers of living color running within. She absolutely gasped.

"Scott snagged the best one, but I did find one that's almost as good," the colonel explained. "We actually brought back a bunch of 'em. We can find a jeweler to set it when we get home."

"It's amazing," she said, breathless. She wanted to touch it, but she idiotically feared that would shatter it or make it disappear.

He laughed. "I probably should have given this to you up on the bridge. Maybe you wouldn't have had to think so hard." She shook her head and giggled a little. He closed the box, and it vanished back into his pocket. "We should head back in there," he said softly, tilting his head to the Mess.

She nodded, slightly disappointed, but wishing to support her friends in their happy news also. They went together, his arm around her shoulders, hers around his waist. As they went along he kept kissing the side of her head and telling her over and over again that he loved her.

Feeling bold, she smiled over at him. "Now, just to prepare you, I've got a date tonight."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really?"

She nodded. "Yup. He's a doctor. Real nice guy. I'll probably be out all night, so don't wait up."

He snorted, trying to cover a laugh and failing. "Well, you tell this doctor that he had better behave himself."

She grinned. "I'll keep him in line."

"Or I'll have to."

She giggled. They found the mess hall, and she paused just outside. "Actually, I really should go see how he's doing," she told him.

He nodded. "Okay. You know where I'll be."

She nodded and left him there, slipping back to the infirmary. She was surprised to find Rush alone.

"Hey," she said. "What are you doing here by yourself?"

He shrugged. "I needed some time."

She sighed. "I understand that, but there's a reason we haven't left you alone."

He pointed to a radio on the table next to him. "No big deal. I would have called you."

She didn't want to argue with him. She was just glad he was all right. He was looking at her oddly, and she realized she was grinning like a fruitcake. "So, uh…" She cleared her throat. "Pretty exciting about Matt and Chloe, huh?"

He frowned curiously. "Yes."

"They're so cute together, don't you think?"

He didn't respond to that. He just stared at her.

She wanted to spill it all, but something had her keeping it to herself for now. She forced herself to take on a slightly less silly face as she sat in the chair at his side. "Excited for our date tonight?"

He snorted. She was glad she could make him laugh like that. "It's been a very long time since I had a date," he confided. "I feel rather underdressed."

She grinned. She liked this side of him. "Well, don't worry about it. We're all pretty raggedy by now."

He nodded. "That's true."

She studied him for a minute. "How are you feeling? Any pain?"

He shrugged. "No more than usual. Tired, though."

He looked it. "We'll get that under control," she said, although she knew it was of little comfort. Being tired was really the least of his worries. To his credit, he just nodded. "Have you tried eating anything?"

He shook his head with a little grimace. Apparently, even the thought nauseated him. She had to try very hard not to sigh. He hadn't eaten in so long it was a miracle he had the verve even to sit up straight. She didn't know what was sustaining him at this point. She checked the I.V. and felt his forehead, suddenly restless, feeling like she should be doing something, but in here there was nothing to do. She went to her supply shelves, then to her desk, then back to the chair. He watched her all the time.

"You look like you'd rather be somewhere else," he finally said.

She bit her lip guiltily, glancing at the exit. "I need to make an appearance at Matt and Chloe's party."

He motioned for the door. "So go ahead then."

"I really couldn't leave you alone."

"I'll be fine."

"Rush-"

"Tamara," he said. She stopped. "Just go."

He was impossible to argue with. She sighed, rising to her feet. "I won't be gone long, I promise. Do you want me to send someone back here?"

He shook his head. "No, I'll be fine."

"Okay. I'll be back really soon."

"Take your time," he said evenly.

She just nodded and left the infirmary. He could have meant anything by that. Maybe she was smothering him. Maybe he needed time away from her as much as she needed a break from him. Maybe he was testing her dedication to the care of her patient, and she just failed. Maybe he just really needed some time to himself, not having enjoyed any since they found out about his condition. Maybe he was really concerned about her and wanted to give her a reprieve. Whatever his reasoning, she still wound up in the mess hall.

Her mood lifted instantly. Music was bouncing and drinks were flowing and people were dancing and chatting and laughing, just like they'd done a year ago when they learned they were heading home. Seriously, there just wasn't enough of that these days. She found the colonel sitting on a table in the company of several marines, toasting something. She smiled and went to his side.

"T.J.," he greeted her. "How is he?"

"He's okay right now. I'll be going right back, I'm just here for a few minutes."

"T.J.!"

That was Chloe's voice. Tamara turned and saw her friend elbowing a path through the crowd, her look of joy eclipsed by concern. "Everything okay?"

She nodded and gave her a cheering smile. "Everything's fine, he's all right for now. I just wanted to come congratulate you guys!" She brought her in for an enormous hug.

Chloe grinned. "Thank you. You're the first person who hasn't said it's about time."

Tamara laughed. "Well, it is."

Chloe laughed and rolled her eyes. "I know."

"Where's Matt?"

Chloe pointed. The lieutenant was having what appeared to be a drinking game-slash-arm-wrestling contest with Varro. Brody and Volker were spectating, and James was narrating for Doctor Park. Tamara crossed the room and reached them just as Varro apparently lost, his knuckles scraping the tabletop. The table burst into cheers, and Varro threw back another shot.

"And Varro finishes his second mug!" James announced. Tamara gaped at him. You would never know he'd had so much. His nerves were steel, his eyes sharp, his smile sharper. Brody and Volker had been snickering to each other before, but now they were just mildly fascinated.

"I thought..." Volker said to his friend.

"It  _is_ ," Brody said. "I don't know how he's doing this."

Tamara ignored them, instead looking at Varro. "I hope I don't need you in the infirmary later," she scolded him. If anything, she'd probably be treating him. He smiled at her and waved a dismissive hand.

"Nothing to worry about, Tamara. It's under control."

Apparently it was. She shook her head and put her hand on Matt's shoulder, who was a little more worse for wear. His eyes were watery and a little bloodshot, but he was still sitting up straight enough. He smiled at her.

"Hey, T.J."

She smiled, distantly wondering if she'd be seeing him in the infirmary later too. "Hey, Matt. I just wanted to tell you congratulations."

He stood and wrapped his strong arms around her. "Thanks. About time, I know."

She laughed. "Better late than never."

He smiled. She planted a friendly kiss on his cheek. Greer looked jealous, so she gave him one too. Then Greer kissed Park, then Varro kissed James, and soon everyone was behaving like it was midnight on New Year's Day. She turned and traded a longing smile with the colonel. In time they would make their own announcement. Tonight was about Matt and Chloe. She walked away, overhearing Brody complain about Varro's inhuman ability to hold his suspiciously strong liquor. She went to the serving station and grabbed a bottle and a pair of mugs, then dodged her way to the door and then returned to the infirmary.

Rush gave her a look as she came in. "So soon?"

"I said I wouldn't be long," she replied. She sat at his side and put the dishes on the little table. "I'm a woman of my word."

She watched a smile slowly diffuse across his face. "That you are."

She smiled too. Then she filled a mug halfway and handed it to him, then filled one for herself.

"What's this for?"

"Purely medicinal," she said. "Alcohol is a pretty good analgesic, you know. Plus, it can act as a blood thinner."

He peered down into his mug. "I doubt I drink often enough for it to be an effective anticoagulant."

"Well," she shrugged, "this  _is_  Brody's stuff, and we all know it's more potent than anything you can find in a store. So its extra strength will make up for how seldom you take it."

He stared at her. "That's not really true, is it?"

She paused, then shook her head with a smile of defeat. "No."

"No." But he took a swallow anyway.

"Not too much," she cautioned him. "I don't know how this will interact with your painkillers."

He nodded. "Well, I'd hate to let this fine beverage go entirely to waste. What do we drink to?"

She raised her mug. "To Scott and Chloe?"

Metal rang against metal. "To Scott and Chloe."

"Cheers."

"Cheers."

They drank, just a sip. "Your turn to think of something," she told him, clearing her throat.

He thought about it. With a shrug, he raised his mug again. "To  _Destiny_."

She smiled. "To  _Destiny_."

"Cheers."

"Cheers."

They drank. For a half hour they continued like that, toasting anything they could think of - the Icarus planet that would take the crew to Earth, the communication stones, Brody's paper-making machine, the recharging plate, the still, the showers, the kinos, the shuttles, the shields, the military, the civilians, the comrades they had lost, and the ones they hadn't.

As Tamara was giving herself a refill, Rush said, "Lieutenant, I want you to do me a favor."

She put the bottle down and turned back to him. He was staring down into his empty mug, completely sober. "Of course," she said.

He rolled his mug between his palms and looked straight into her eyes. "I want you to make sure Lieutenant Scott takes good care of Chloe."

She smiled morosely. As if there was any doubt of that. "Of course I will. You really care about her, don't you?"

He nodded. Then he gave her a shock: "And make sure your colonel takes good care of you."

Her face must have changed, because he smiled mildly. "What?" she said, assuming ignorance. He couldn't possibly know.

He scoffed. "Please, Lieutenant. You can't hide it. I know that face on a woman."

He was bluffing. There was no way. She stared at him, refusing to believe.

"How…?"

"I've seen it many times. Gloria made the same one. I saw it on Chloe just a few hours before I saw it on you."

She frowned in bewilderment.

He smiled again, with an edge this time. "And there is no higher honor than to be the person who made a woman look like that. To find someone worthy of it is a rare thing."

The alcohol might have been getting to her. She shook her head. "So you're saying he's worthy?"

"That depends. Are you happy?"

"Yes." She didn't even have to think about it.

He nodded, once. "Then he's worthy."

This was too deep for her right now. She took a swig from her mug, earning a slight narrowing of his eyes. He must have noticed how she'd almost missed her mouth.

"Perhaps no more toasts for you."

She nodded. "You're right. I'm cutting myself off."

"Good idea."

She checked her watch, blinking against her doubling vision. It was only 1900. She had some time before they needed to go on their "date".

"How about you?" she said, trying to control her speech. "Feeling okay?"

His eyes drifted to his bottle of pain medicine. "Fine, for now," he said, shifting on the bed.

She just nodded. "Okay. Whenever you're ready to take a walk, just let me know, all right?"

He might have answered, but she didn't know, because the next thing she knew it was morning and she was waking up.

She found him unconscious. Panic swelled, lancing through her head. She instantly checked for breathing, pulse, reflexes. She found them all normal, and cursed herself for her negligence. What was she thinking? She  _knew_  she had to take care of Rush overnight. She  _knew_  she always passed out hard after drinking Brody's paint thinner. She  _knew_  Rush would need to take a walk. What kind of friend was she?

Her brain was threatening to punch through her skull. The lights were way too bright; her mouth was dry and her stomach felt sour. Regret and shame came gurgling up, and she threw it all up into a basin.  _Great_ , she thought. Just great. Hangover. That's what she needed.

"Have some water," came a quiet voice from behind her, and she jumped. Turning, she saw Varro walking over from her desk with a mug in his hand, which he was holding out to her. She was suddenly very, very embarrassed.

"Thank you," she whispered groggily, taking what he offered. He shrugged. She took a long drink, forcing herself to swallow instead of spit. Her eyes wandered to the little bottle of pain relievers on the table, but no, she decided. She deserved this hangover. Served her right. "Were you here all night?" she asked, turning back to her helper.

He looked amused. "Someone had to watch the two of you."

She groaned. This must have been what Rush felt like after he'd woken up from his collapse and found her watching him. "And?"

He shrugged and came a little closer. "He woke up once looking for pain medicine."

That made her feel horribly guilty. Rush had been suffering and she had been right there, totally oblivious to him. She looked down at the sleeping man, gently brushing his hair out of his face. "Sorry," she whispered.

"He's all right," Varro assured her. He stretched, blinking blearily. "He went right back to sleep, so it wasn't a big thing."

Maybe the alcohol helped after all. She smiled at him, wondering in the back of her mind how he could be in such fine feather after having two whole mugs, while she was almost falling over after only half. "I don't know what I would do without you," she said honestly.

He just smiled also. "Always happy to be useful. But now that you're awake, I think I'll get some sleep."

She nodded. "Take the whole day off, Varro. If anyone gives you grief, send them to me."

He smiled and disappeared.

When the bulkhead was closed, Tamara looked back down at Rush, watching him sleep, sorrow washing over her anew. Another day gone. The moonshine had done its due diligence, blunting her senses and dulling the ache of knowing he would be gone soon, but in its wake was left all the pain it couldn't really heal. She swept his hair back again and he didn't even stir. He looked paler, more fragile. What a difference a day made. In spite of it all she felt sorry for all of the time she'd spent away from him yesterday, precious hours she'd never get back slipping through her fingers like water, and now she took his hand and silently vowed to stay at his side for as long as it depended on her.

' _Til death do us part._


	17. Chapter 17

Tamara’s headache gradually faded as the morning went on, but her guilt didn’t. Rush was very still. She pottered around the infirmary, trying to keep herself occupied, determined not to leave him for any reason. She kept wishing he would say something because any conversation _she_ tried to start died before it began. He seemed especially withdrawn today, lying on his side beneath the blanket, facing away from her. He didn’t move whenever she checked on his I.V. or adjusted his blankets; he just ignored her completely. Was he upset? Gosh, she hoped not. Talking had been so easy lately and she hated to think that she had knocked it all out of groove. For an hour she sat in the chair by his head, just listening to him breathe. She could hear a rattling sound that hadn't been there before. She didn’t know how to tell anymore when he was awake or asleep, and he hadn’t eaten in so long that it was a small wonder he had no energy to do anything. He was probably too _tired_ to talk. She sighed to herself, resting her face in her hands.

It was going to be soon. She could feel it. He probably could too; maybe that was why he was so reclusive today. The blood thinners were gone, and the pain medicine was close behind. She found herself looking at her supply cabinet, at the third shelf from the top, the far left side. That’s where she kept the sedative. She would be using it soon.

“Everything okay, Lieutenant?” he asked suddenly. She heard him clear his throat. 

Thank goodness he was talking. “Hmm?” she said, hesitant to say more for fear of scaring him off.

He shifted, struggling to twist onto his other side. “You haven't spoken today. Something wrong?”

She shook her head. "No, I'm okay,” she assured him. “I just…didn’t want to disturb you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t asleep.”

She shrugged. “I couldn’t tell.” He just nodded, and she sighed. “Actually, I was afraid you were mad at me.” 

He narrowed one eye in confusion. “What for?” 

She gestured to the alcohol bottle that still sat on the little table. “For flaking on you last night. We didn't even get to take a walk.”

He looked amused. “You obviously needed the rest.”

“Yeah, but…” She knew she hadn't fallen asleep as much as _passed out_. But he just waved a hand and shook his head. 

“Doesn’t matter anyway. I didn’t…feel much like walking.” 

She wanted to feel reassured, but that really just made her sad. “Oh. Well, good then. How did you sleep?” 

He shrugged. “Fine."

His classic answer. She could only nod. “Okay.”

He coughed into his shoulder. “Anyway, now that we got that straightened out, don't you think you should go get something to eat?”

“Why, are you hungry?” The little sparkle of hope died when he shook his head. 

“I meant for you.” 

She forced a smile, crossing her arms. "Why do you keep trying to get rid of me?" 

He squinted at her, but she'd been studying his expressions long enough to know that there was no anger there. "I'm not trying to get _rid_ of you," he countered. 

He was giving her an excuse to step away for awhile. She smiled for real. "Thank you, but I'm perfectly fine right here. If I wanted, I could get someone to bring me something."

"Maybe you should. You're annoying when you're hungry."

She slapped his arm lightly. "You're just annoying." 

That time _he_ smiled. 

The infirmary door opened then, and in came Matt with Chloe and Eli. Tamara suppressed her disappointment at their interruption and hailed them with a wave.  

“Good morning,” Chloe greeted them, although by now it was after noon. She looked the best out of the three. Matt was wobbling on his feet, obviously hungover, and Eli looked like he just woke up. Chloe came around to Rush’s other side. 

“Morning,” Tamara replied. 

“Morning,” said Rush.  

“The colonel wanted us to let you know that we're going to be gating to a planet pretty soon,” said Scott, squinting against the lights. Tamara thought of Varro and had to fight hard against a smile pulling at her. Matt had stood no chance. “It might have some foodstuffs, and if we're lucky it'll last until Earth.”

She nodded, unsure why it took all three of them to come and tell her that. She suspected Matt had been given the order and the other two were looking for an excuse to drop by. She heard Rush cough again, and when he didn’t stop she eyed him. He really didn’t sound good, and he kept rubbing his chest. “You all right?” 

Rush nodded and cleared his throat again. “Water, please,” he said, and Chloe handed him a mug.  

“Becker thinks he can make it stretch,” Matt went on, “so hopefully this'll be the last time we have to drop out of FTL. It’ll be nice knowing that the next-”

Rush suddenly choked and dropped his mug to the floor, and Chloe stumbled away with a gasp. He curled forward, coughing furiously into his hands, sucking in thick, wet breaths. Blood was coming up with the water. 

Eli was instantly swearing and shouting. “What’s going on? Why is he doing that?!” 

“I don't know!” Tamara yelled back. She thumped her hand between Rush's shoulders. "Hey, hey, come on! Breathe!”

Rush’s face and hands were sticky and red. He kept fighting to inhale, kept fighting to speak, choking up little clumps of curdled blood. Scott was on the radio, shouting for Colonel Young, and Tamara wondered how in the world he thought the colonel could help. Chloe just stood horror-stricken to the side with both hands covering her mouth while Eli looked on with bugged eyes. Rush achieved a breath deep enough to deliver one last liquid cough, and then he fell into stillness, panting. Tamara held him close to her chest and sighed. He kept his hands close to his face, eyes fixed on something by the far wall. His entire body shuddered.

“Lieutenant,” he gasped out.  

“Yeah,” she breathed. She squeezed his shoulder and crouched down in front of him. “You okay?”

He hesitated just a moment. “What would you like me to do with this?” He showed her his hands without looking at them. Cupped inside was an enormous, glistening red slug. 

Chloe almost fainted. Matthew threw up. Eli turned away. Tamara hastily snapped on a pair of gloves and took the thing out of Rush's hands and placed it into a basin, clueless as to what she would do with it after that. Rush sat very still on the bed, not looking at anyone, his red-stained hands hovering in the air. Afraid to touch anything. His mouth was locked shut. Tamara hurried to change her gloves, then wet a rag and gently began washing off his face. He didn't move; he just closed his eyes and let her work. Chloe reached for his hands, but Tamara stopped her. 

“Gloves,” she said. “Biohazard."

Chloe shakily tugged on her own pair, clearly trying to resist the tears, and began wiping off his hands. 

“T.J.?”

The colonel was at the door and looking not quite sure if he should come any closer. “Just a minute, sir,” she said.  

Young didn't wait. He made his way over, dodging the vomit on the floor and the queasy Eli on a spare bed. He came to stand by her and was obviously trying to maintain his composure, though his eyes said it all. “What happened?” he murmured with controlled evenness.  

She gestured to the basin with her elbow. “He just brought up a bunch of clots from his lungs.”

Rush shivered and kept his eyes shut. When he was cleaned up again, he slid down into the bed and burrowed into the blankets. The colonel waved T.J. out of the room and into the hall. 

“What does that mean?” he asked. 

“You _know_ what it means, Colonel,” she snapped, more harshly than she meant. The adrenaline had receded, leaving her shaky, her nerves shot, and now her headache was back. At his lightly raised eyebrows, she said, “Sorry. But it just means he's very, very close. Do I know how close? No. But the blood thinners are gone, so at this point there's nothing keeping him alive aside from his own stubborn will. I'll be shocked if he is still here at this time tomorrow.” 

He reached for her, and she realized she was crying. She let him collect her, locking her arms behind him and sobbing into his shoulder, trying to draw comfort from his hand rubbing up and down her back. “I'm sorry, T.J.,” he said. “I'm so sorry.” 

“I know it’s coming,” she whimpered. “But I’m not prepared, I’m not. I don’t want him to die.” 

“I know.”

She lifted her head to look back into the infirmary and saw Chloe in tears by Rush's bedside, holding one of his hands and brushing back his hair. Rush was saying something Tamara couldn't hear. Chloe was just shaking her head and sobbing. Matt was on the floor, cleaning up the mess he'd made, and Eli was pacing. Tamara held the colonel a little tighter, took a sequence of deep breaths to steady herself again, and pulled away. “I need to get back in there. He’s going to to need pretty constant attention from here, I think.”

He nodded and let her go. He waved for Scott to come with him, and the lieutenant reluctantly made his way out, casting unhappy glances behind him as he went. 

Tamara returned to Rush’s bedside and pressed the back of her hand against his forehead. No fever. That was strange after so long, and a crushing sadness fell over her as she realized that his body was finally giving up the fight. She pulled her hand away, not sure what to do with herself, and crossed her arms.

"You okay?” she asked him inanely. 

He nodded. He was lying, but what could she do? Chloe remained steadfast at his side, but he had gone quiet now, staring longingly at something near his left hand. Or perhaps it was at his hand. He’d been doing that a lot lately.

“What’s the matter?” Tamara gently asked, but he didn’t answer. He was the worst kind of patient. It was impossible to treat someone who wouldn't tell you where it hurt.

Chloe stroked some hair away from his face. “His ring,” she sighed, for him.

Tamara hesitated, unsure if she should ask. She watched the two of them share a look.

“The aliens took it,” Chloe explained quietly.

She looked back at Rush. His eyes were closed now, tiny tears at the corners. She kept helplessly silent. 

“I have an idea,” Chloe said suddenly, and she got up and disappeared. Tamara took the opportunity to sit in the chair at his head, noticing vaguely that Eli was gone. She hadn’t even seen him leave. 

“Rush.” He looked at her. Now that she had his attention, she didn’t know what she wanted to say. She just wanted him to be aware, to stay with her for awhile. She smiled, just a bit. “Hey.”

He licked his lips and looked ready to speak, but then looked away and said nothing. She got up and got him a glass of water, allowing him to rinse and spit into the basin.

“How’s your pain?” she tried. It was hard to keep the hysterical waver out of her voice.

“Still there,” he said softly. “But tolerable.”

He had to know that they were running out of analgesics. He’d been taking so much, so often, and they’d not had much to begin with. She wondered if he was really managing or just trying to conserve. He hadn’t asked about the blood thinners, and she hadn’t told him, but neither had she given him any, and he had no doubt already pieced that together on his own. She reached out and combed her fingers through his hair, rubbing his head and neck. He closed his eyes and swallowed. 

Chloe returned then with a little piece of paper. A peek showed Tamara that it was a photograph of Rush with a pretty brunette. She didn't need to be told it was his wife. Chloe timidly held it out to him, softly asking, “Does this help?”  

He opened his eyes, which widened, and he took the picture from her with a nod and a very weak thank-you. He pulled the photo reverently to his chest and closed his eyes, and Chloe smiled a little, then excused herself and left the infirmary. Tamara, sensing that he would rather be alone, squeezed his shoulder and moved away to give him some space. She stayed out of his line of sight and began slowly sorting her supplies. Whoever came onto the ship after them would need to know what and where things were.

She felt a powerful, territorial kind of jealousy at the idea that there would be some other doctor here pretty soon. Even though she wasn’t staying, this was still _her_ infirmary. _She_ had gotten it up and running, _she_ had arranged it how she liked it, _she_ had reset bones, stitched wounds, transplanted kidneys, and soothed souls in this room. And now she was going to have to turn it over to someone else who was probably just going to mess it all up. _They’d better not move the desk,_ she thought, frowning. It was in the perfect spot to be able to see all of the patients at once.

She had no real right to tell anyone what to do here, she knew that. But that didn’t mean she had to like it. She was the first medic ever to serve on this ship, and as such, her knowledge and experience caused her to absolutely reject the thought of other doctors and nurses who thought they knew better coming on board. It made her physically ill. For a moment, she wished she could stay.

She sneaked a glance at Rush. He probably felt the same way knowing he was going to be replaced. He loved this ship. He knew it inside and out, and now it was going to be put in the hands of someone who could never appreciate it the way he did. She knew what it would do to him to be stuck on Earth knowing some other scientist was walking these halls, pushing buttons, exploring systems, repairing damages. Unlocking secrets. It would be unbearable for him…if he had been going to live to see it. Not for the first time, or the second, she caught herself thinking of the two words that had been bouncing around inside her skull since the day the colonel said them: _Cyanide pill._  

 _No_ , she told herself immediately, physically shaking the thought out of her head. She would not entertain that idea. She simply would not. He was a _good man_ , and he had saved her life for a _good reason_ , and she refused to consider anything to the contrary.

She consolidated two half-empty boxes of plastic tubing into one. She counted syringes, stacked squares of gauze, and bundled up cotton swabs. Then she moved on to the really interesting supplies: the various plants and medicinals she had collected from a passel of planets. She wondered what Earthly diseases could be cured with these alien treasures. She’d learned more within these walls than she ever could in Seattle, she knew that much. Earth medicine almost sounded dull in comparison, though infinitely more valuable to her for the amount of time she had left there. She might even get the chance to personally witness the miracles these things could accomplish. 

_Because of him._

She looked again at Rush. She found him staring at the wall, his hands resting in his lap, gaze empty. The photograph had fallen to the floor. She went to his side and picked it up, sitting in the chair as she handed it to him. "Here."

"Thank you."

"Something wrong?” she asked. He shook his head. Lying again. "Are you sure?"

He kept his eyes on the wall, lost inside his own head. She looked at the picture and the hands holding it, noticing dried blood around his fingernails. She tugged on a pair of gloves and tenderly began to clean it all away.

"Not much time left, is there?" Rush finally asked. He still wasn't looking at her, but she shook her head anyway.

"No," she said softly. She swallowed hard. "It'll be soon, Rush." 

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, not answering. Her task was completed in silence, and when she was done she shed the gloves and took the load to the biohazard bin. Upon returning to his side she just sat quietly, looking at the picture again, until a new thought came over her, and she reached out and covered his hands with her own. 

"Hey," she whispered. “Talk to me." 

"About what?"

She squeezed his hands. "Anything. Everything. Tell me about yourself."

He frowned and finally looked at her. "What?"

"I hardly know anything about you,” she said. “I want to know more."

"Why?"

“Because no one does.” And once he was gone, there would be nobody left to tell his story. The memory of him would fade and he would become just another name, one of billions that had disappeared into the past, and no one would know any more about him than what could be found online. Which, she assumed, really wasn’t much more than professional biographies or academic journal articles. She couldn’t save his life, but she could help him live forever in a different way. "Everyone deserves to be remembered," she told him gently. “What do I tell my family about the man who saved my life? What do we tell our children? Don’t you want to leave something of yourself behind?"

He gave no answer, staring at her, before turning his face to the other wall. She didn't leave. She sat and she waited, still holding his hand, noting how he didn't pull it away. She wouldn't ask again; she would let him come in his own time. And in time, her patience was rewarded.

"I grew up in Glasgow," he began, very quietly. "Scotland."

"I love Scotland,” she answered without thinking.

He looked at her in surprise. "You've been?" 

Embarrassment warmed her face. “Well, no…but I’ve, um…seen pictures.”

He stared at her, and she feared she would lose him, but then he laughed in perplexity. “Wow.” 

She smiled, relieved. “I know, sorry. I really would love to visit, though. I hear the Highlands are beautiful.” 

“Well, what you’ve heard isn’t half as beautiful as they really are.”

She smiled. “I’ll have to see them for myself one day.” 

He nodded. “You should. Go in the summer." 

"I will." 

"I hope you like rain." 

She grinned. "I love rain."

"Then you really will love Scotland."

She squeezed again. "Tell me about your family."

He hesitated, then nodded. His father was a shipyard worker, he told her. He didn't remember his mother because she’d left when he was very small. He had no brothers or sisters or other family that he knew of. He grew up poor, but his father had loved him fiercely. The man died two months before Rush was sent to Icarus.

“Climbing accident,” he explained. “He lost his grip.”

Tamara flinched. “I’m sorry.” 

He nodded. “Me too.”

She patted his hand and smiled. "Tell me about your wife." 

He did. Slowly, at first, with no small measure of self-consciousness, but the more he spoke, the easier it came. Tamara hung on every word. She knew intuitively that she was beginning to uncover the man Gloria had loved. She had long known he was in there somewhere, buried deep beneath all the nettles and stone. This was the Nicholas Rush of the past, all affection, all class, genuine, before his heart died.

He stared at the picture, brushing his thumb over the woman’s face. His Gloria was a concert violinist, he said. He’d first seen her when she was playing for the families in the waiting area of the hospital treating her, where he was working cleaning rooms at the time. He liked embarrassing her sometimes by pulling her off the stage during rehearsals to dance. She liked embarrassing him by showing up during his lectures and kissing him in front of his students. (He really rather liked that, he confessed, but he was afraid she would stop if he told her so.) She liked gardens and books, and she especially liked both together. Italian food was her weakness. She won three battles against the cancer before she finally lost the war. Through it all, through everything, her loveliness was unrivaled; her patience, infinite; her love, boundless. She was his anchor, his pillar, and his entire soul. She took all of that with her when she was put to rest back home in England, in the same garden of stone where their daughter slept.

At some point Chloe and Eli returned to the infirmary with food from the planet. Rush didn't send them away. They sat around, and he told them of working at Cornell with Andrew Covel and how he was ultimately recruited by Daniel Jackson. He told them about the time he broke a former friend’s jaw. The night he talked someone down from the Golden Gate Bridge. How he always feared, growing up, that he would never find a place where he would fit. He had found it on _Destiny_.

He didn’t have a favorite color. He loved American Westerns. He disliked bananas (it was a texture thing), and he wasn’t convinced marshmallows were a food. He couldn't tell the difference between a good wine and a bad wine. He enjoyed the violin the least of all instruments, even though he loved it the most.

Like shrapnel, these fragments of him fixed in Tamara’s heart and mind. They went deep. Unstitchable wounds. But even as it hurt to keep them, she welcomed the pain that would ensure their never being forgotten. When he finally got quiet, either out of things to say or perhaps lacking the energy to continue, Tamara looked to the open doorway and saw Colonel Young leaning against the frame with his arms folded, listening. He met her gaze for just a second before he closed his eyes and disappeared. 

Chloe and Eli left also, in close conference, whispering.

Tamara alone was left, and there was nothing she could say except a very weary, “Thank you.” 

– 

Nicholas had talked himself to exhaustion. His mind registered the lieutenant's expression of gratitude just enough to wonder about it, but he felt too disconnected then to muster a reply. These were things he'd never told anyone. No one had ever bothered to ask. He was thankful that she had, thankful to be given a chance to show himself as he used to be, since he was fairly certain most people didn’t believe he had ever been anything other than what he was. It was a lesson in catharsis. What was better was having someone to listen who really, genuinely cared. He said a prayer of thanks for Tamara, glad the world would get to enjoy her for awhile longer, and in a rare moment of tranquility he didn’t regret giving away his injection.

He was particularly thankful she had asked during one of his rational moments when he still had the wherewithal to remember these things. He wasn’t stupid - not yet, anyway. He knew his mind was failing. Every day it got a little worse - forgetting where he was, forgetting why he was there, forgetting how to do simple math. His ability to retain information was abandoning him more and more often and kept taking longer and longer to return. After the lieutenant fell asleep last night, he had spent a long time lying awake, feeling inexplicably lonely, anxious, unable to sleep, his muscles torqued with cramps. He had tried to comfort himself with numbers until he was finally forced to admit that he couldn’t remember what the number five was supposed to look like. He'd turned his mind over to chasing another distraction instead - memories of Gloria - but discovered in a moment of strangling horror that he had completely forgotten her face. That was when it occurred to him just how bad this nightmare was going to be. He’d panicked then, searching his dying mind for any hint of her, but she was gone, stolen from him once more, and he was practically hyperventilating by the time that former Alliance member came to calm him down and give him the painkillers. He was too wrung out to stay awake for much longer after that.

Chloe, in her untold wisdom, had saved him by bringing him that photograph. It took everything he had not to break down in tears like he hadn’t done since he was a child.

He dreaded the day he forgot forever what was really important. Gloria’s voice. Gloria’s name. The sound of her violin (thank heaven for his iPod). Those precious years they'd had together. How much he had loved her, and why. It was bad enough that he’d already forgotten Eli and Chloe once. He had spent this entire morning just trying to remember Tamara’s name. He couldn’t even work anymore, and at this point he was too afraid to try. He probably _would_ blow up the ship. How much more would be taken from him before the end? Would he remember enough to know? Would he know enough to care?

He hated to think of how many people would see him like this. He didn’t want this. He wasn’t so unmoved as to think that his mind was the only good thing he had left, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t terrified of degenerating into a drooling idiot before all and sundry. He had made Tamara promise that she would give him the sedative before it got that far. He didn’t want to fade, memory by memory, into obscurity. Into oblivion. Into a state where he didn’t know who he was, or what he was, or why he was, only _that_ he was, never to know more, never to understand anything beyond a one-dimensional awareness of his own existence, and then at the end of it all, to perish. He couldn’t think of anything more frightening than forgetting himself.

Except, perhaps, being forgotten by everyone else.

He might have disengaged there for a while. Perhaps he was dozing with his eyes open. The next thing he knew was that Chloe was back, standing at his side. She smiled when she realized he saw her. He wondered where Tamara went.

"Hey," Chloe said. She stopped fiddling with the iPod dock on the table and sat in the chair. She was fancied up, wearing that pink dress she'd worn to Icarus, and her hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, freshly done. "I thought of something earlier."

“You look nice,” he told her. He was still trying to catch up.

She blushed. “Thanks. That’s part of it. Can you do me a favor?"

He didn't know what he would possibly be able to do for her. “Well, that depends."

"It's not big," she said. "I just want you to stand up."

That was suspiciously simple. "Stand up? That's it?"

She smiled and nodded. "That's it."

He knew full well that _wasn't_ it, but she had that look again of shining hope dimmed by doubt, and he didn't want to smother that. So he turned and swiveled his legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the pain crawling along his body, standing to his feet with her help. She immediately stepped up close to him, put her other arm around his back, and nuzzled into his neck. 

“What are you doing?” he asked her.

“Shh.”

A soft, slow song began to play. She rocked him gently from side to side, and he belatedly realized what was going on. “You could have just said so,” he teased, holding her close. Her grip on his back tightened. A kino appeared and hovered nearby, and he scowled. “Eli…”

“No, it's okay,” Chloe said. “I asked him to do it.”

“Why?”

“Because this is a special occasion.”

Was it? Her voice sounded strange. Almost like she was afraid - but no, that wasn’t the right word. Uncertain, maybe? Cautious. Stepping onto something that might shatter beneath her.

“And what’s that?” he wanted to know.

She raised her head to look at him, and he frowned to see tears in her eyes. Softly, with a trembling lip and an unsteady voice, she said, “Daddy-daughter wedding dance?”

 _She found the kino._ He was unable to breathe again, but it wasn’t like this morning when he was choking. It was an attack of emotion, something like joy, something like pain, something that made him hold her a little tighter and press his lips against her forehead. Her hand traced soothing tracks across his back. He swallowed hard and nodded. “I can do that.”

She held fast to him, mindful of his frail state. They said nothing, just swaying to the music, paying no mind to the kino making very slow wheels around them. They lingered there like that for so many songs that he lost all count. He didn't want to let her go. Somehow, with her, like this...he didn't hurt as much.


	18. Chapter 18

 

Tamara felt guilty. She felt like she wasn't supposed to be watching, wasn't even supposed to be in Eli's room. It was bad enough that Eli was a witness. It was like she was violating their space and spying on something sacred only Rush and Chloe shared, but she told herself that she was observing for the purposes of monitoring Rush's health. She wanted to make sure nothing happened, that was all. Professional concern for her patient. Purely clinical.

Yeah, right.

She watched them on the kino feed as they held each other, barely moving, occasionally pulling apart to say something or just brush some hair away. Part of her resented Eli for muting the audio, while the rest of her was proud of his respect for their privacy. Chloe was essentially keeping Rush on his feet, weak as he was, supporting them both with a rigid grip on his I.V. pole. It seemed like hours passed that way. Chloe cried the whole time.

When Rush's energy finally seemed to dissipate, Chloe carefully helped him settle back onto the bed. She stretched out his feet and curled up in the chair beside him, rubbing his shoulder and neck. On the kino, Tamara watched her stare at him for several minutes before bringing her radio to her mouth.

_"You can come back now."_

She sniffed and cleared her throat. "I'll be right there," she answered. She patted Eli's shoulder, eliciting no reaction at all, and left his room for the infirmary. Watching Chloe leave with tears in her eyes physically hurt. Chloe seemed reluctant to go, holding on to his hand for as far as they could stretch, and hardly turning away even as she walked out of the room. The bulkhead closed, and Tamara looked at Rush, who was staring at the wall again.

"Rush..."

He closed his eyes. Shut her out. "No more talking."

Fair enough. She dropped into the bedside chair and shut off the iPod, feeling spent, watching him slip gradually into sleep, monitoring each move and each sound he made. He seemed okay at the moment - he wasn't restless and his breathing was steady - but the longer she stared at him, the more she became aware of a dark dread mounting in her soul. There in the silence, her heart was speaking to her. Every beat heralded the truth she was trying to ignore. She pressed a palm to her chest, feeling the pulse beneath.  _Soon_ , it seemed to say,  _soon-soon…soon-soon..._

They were one day closer.

She pulled her stethoscope out of her bag and put the ends into her ears, holding the diaphragm against Rush's chest, gently so not to wake him, listening. All she could hear was an ordinary drumming and the sound of blood going in and out. His heart wasn't saying it. Maybe it didn't know.

 _Of course he knows._ Probably better than she. Watching him sleep, examining his pale face, the dark circles under his tired eyes, she found within her grief a meager comfort that his suffering was almost over. She reached out and smoothed back his hair.

_Soon-soon…soon-soon...soon-soon..._

"How soon?" she whispered.

"T.J.?" She jumped. Chloe was at the door, back in her casual clothes, her hair flat, her eyes red. She hadn't even heard the bulkhead open. Maybe she was losing her mind.

"Oh, hey, Chloe," she said, pulling the stethoscope out of her ears. "Need something?"

Chloe's eyes flitted to Rush. "No, I'm fine. Is he okay?"

"He's okay." She put her stethoscope away. "Sleeping. He's probably exhausted."

Chloe nodded. "Yeah. I was actually hoping to talk to him."

Tamara scrunched her face. "Sorry, hon. Later. I'd really rather he slept now."

"No, yeah, that's fine. Um…do you mind if I hang out for a little while?"

Tamara shrugged. "Sure."

Chloe came fully into the room and grabbed a spare chair which she placed by Rush's head. She looked absorbed, frowning slightly as she watched him sleep. Every now and then she'd sniff and wipe her eyes.

"Hey," said Tamara gently. "You okay?"

Chloe nodded. She was lying.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Chloe shook her head. "No. Thanks, but I can't go into all that right now. I just want to be here."

She nodded. "Okay."

A long time passed. Tamara kept her eyes on Chloe as much as on Rush. Eventually, Chloe asked gingerly, "How long does he have?"

Tamara shook her head. She hated that question. She hated the answer. "I don't know, Chloe. Ever since it started he's been on borrowed time."

Chloe sniffed and nodded. "I owe you an apology, T.J."

Tamara looked at her and frowned. "Why?"

Chloe was still looking at Rush. She bit her lip. "I don't want to tell you. But just know that I'm really sorry. Okay?"

She didn't like the sound of that at all. "What are you talking about? What did you do?"

Chloe shook her head. "No, it's nothing like that. It's not something I did, or didn't do. It's something…else." She grimaced. "Something…I feel."

Tamara thought she knew where this was going. "Involving Rush?" she guessed.

Chloe closed her eyes and nodded.

She didn't want to hear it any more than Chloe wanted to say it, so she just sighed, stung, and feeling selfish about it. "Okay."

"I'm sorry."

She swallowed. "It's…okay. It's okay. You can't help how you feel." Chloe did not look comforted. Tears flooded her eyes, and she lowered her face. "Hey," said Tamara, to change the subject, "you've had a long day too. Why don't you get some sleep?"

Chloe shook her head. "I'm okay."

"Really, Chloe, you look exhausted."

"I'm not leaving."

Maybe she felt it too. It made Tamara even more anxious. That eerie feeling had returned, sharper now. She hadn't slept in her own quarters in ages, and she knew she never would be able to now, not so far away. She was reluctant to move five feet from Rush at this point. It was an irrational fear, a gnawing feeling she couldn't get rid of. Superstition, perhaps. Afraid that if she left, he wouldn't be there when she came back.

"Okay," she managed. She forced a smile. "How about we both stay? We'll watch in shifts."

Chloe didn't look away from Rush. "I'll take the first one."

Tamara nodded, resigned. "Five hours?"

It was 2100. Chloe agreed.

"You'll wake me if anything happens?"

"Uh-huh."

Tamara got up and moved to a spare bed. She reclined, lowering the back and fluffing the pillow, but found she couldn't sleep. Even knowing Chloe was right there brought her no comfort. She could only lie there and fret, scared that when she woke up he'd be gone.

Halfway through the interval, she heard Chloe whisper, "I forgot to tell you something." She frowned. Was he awake? She sat up and looked over, but Rush was still out. Chloe was on the edge of the seat next to him, hands folded between her knees, staring at his face. "Actually, that's not true. I don't know why I didn't tell you. I should have. I wanted to. But I guess maybe I thought you already knew, or something. But I thought about it afterward and I decided I should tell you anyway, even if you've already figured it out."

Tamara thought she should cover her ears. This was another personal moment. Let them have their privacy. She kept listening instead.

"But I don't want to tell you while you're asleep," Chloe went on. "That would kind of defeat the purpose of telling you at all. I wish you would wake up." She was quiet for several moments. The I.V. machine clicked, and Rush shifted but didn't wake. Chloe sighed. "I'll tell you tomorrow."

Tamara watched her lean over and kiss Rush on the forehead, and then there was nothing.

She hardly slept at all. When it was her turn to watch the patient she found that Chloe was just as restless. Eventually they both silently agreed that neither of them would be getting any sleep, and they sat together in solemn vigil. Rush didn't move once. Tamara kept checking all night long to make sure he was still breathing. She maintained a constant eye on the I.V. machine, practically daring it to do something, but it remained obediently quiet. When morning came again, Matt came by with an invitation to breakfast, which Chloe grudgingly accepted. Tamara had to refuse - she wasn't hungry, and leaving Rush now would just make her ill anyway.

Colonel Young came by not long after that, and Tamara met him in the doorway. His eyes were raw and he may have been drinking. It appeared no one was sleeping anymore. "Is he...still here?" he asked cautiously.

She nodded. "Yeah. Somehow he's hanging on. I can't explain it, Colonel. He should have been dead by now, but it's like he's waiting for something." It was true. She'd watched him very closely, and lately he had the look of someone in a constant state of anticipation. It was probably partly to blame for how tired he was all the time.

"Do you think there's any chance he's getting better?"

 _Oh_ , how she wished, and the hope in his voice hurt. "No," she said, and with a sigh. "Not after what happened yesterday. The anticoagulants are gone. It's not a matter of  _if_ , sir. It never has been. It's just a matter of  _when_."

He nodded, unable to hide his disappointment. "Well," he said, "let's just hope whatever he's waiting for never comes so he can just…keep hanging on."

She nodded, but that was ridiculous. Maybe the colonel was a little superstitious too. He left, and she went back to Rush's side. Chloe came back to the infirmary and didn't leave again.

The day passed while Rush slept on. Tamara's relief that he was getting rest was being swiftly replaced by worry, and she watched him fervently until her eyes hurt. She couldn't find anything wrong, and there were no malfunctions in her instruments; by all appearances, he was simply sleeping. Late in the afternoon Chloe made her catch a few hours of rest before she made herself sick.

She woke suddenly, jarringly, to Chloe shouting, "Nick,  _stop!"_

She was up instantly. Rush was on his feet, tearing at the tape on his hand, trying to dig the needle out. Chloe was on the other side of the bed, looking on in a panic.

"Chloe, what's happening?"

Chloe turned to her frantically. "I don't know! He's flipping out! He won't listen to me!"

Tamara went to Rush, who flinched away.

"Get back!"

"Rush, It's Tamara. What-"

Then she noticed the scalpel in his hand.

She froze. Where he'd gotten that, she didn't know. "Chloe," she said, keeping her eyes on her patient fumbling with the I.V., miserably thankful that his motor skills were degrading, "tell me what happened."

"I don't know," Chloe said. "He woke up looking for his pain medicine, and when I tried to give it to him he freaked."

Why did this keep happening? She regretted taking that nap. She slowly reached for her radio, not wanting to have to involve anyone else in this, but Rush was losing it, and now he had a weapon. "Varro, please come see me right away."

" _On my way."_

Rush was still struggling with the needle. Apparently it hadn't occurred to him to simply cut himself free. "Rush," she said gently. She braved a step forward, causing him to lurch back and almost lose his balance. The I.V. tube kept him from going too far, and he snarled at it. "Rush, you're okay. Do you know where you are?"

He snapped his eyes to her and stilled his hand, watching her warily.

"Nicholas, can you tell me where you are?" she tried again.

He squinted at her. "Who's Nicholas?"

Her every muscle went rigid. Chloe made a strangled sound somewhere behind her, and she blindly motioned to her to be calm. She looked directly into his deranged brown eyes and tried to make him see her. "Okay, Rush, please listen. You're okay. Look around you. Do you know where you are?"

He blinked at her, still leery like he expected her to jump him, and his eyes were quick as they darted around the room. His face eased a bit. "A…h-hospital?" he said.

She nodded.  _No._  "Yes. The infirmary on  _Destiny_. Can you please put that down?"

He looked at his hands, seeming to notice what was there for the first time. He didn't move when she took another step toward him, but whatever composure he'd found was lost again when Varro appeared. He tensed, and Tamara motioned for Varro to keep a distance.

"Hey," she said, trying to bring him back, "it's okay. You're okay. You're fine. Rush? Look at me. There you go. Okay. Now, put that down. Please."

He didn't. He stared at her. "Who's Nicholas?"

 _Come on! "_ Rush."

"Rush," he repeated, then looked startled, as if finally realizing that was him. The blade fell from his fingers and clattered against the ground. He grimaced and pressed both of his shaking hands against his head, slowly crumpling. Tamara hurried to his side, waving for Varro to help her, and they hoisted him up with minimal resistance and ferried him back to the bed. He was done in almost instantly, sliding back into unconsciousness within moments.

She stood by him, studying him, her hand clamped over her mouth. This was getting dicey. His attacks were becoming more frequent and more severe, and now he was posing an actual danger. She feared with an aching dread that she would be forced to use the sedative before she was ready.

She could remember what he had asked of her when she first told him how it would affect him.  _"Please don't use it unless you have to,"_ he had said.  _"But if you have to, please use it."_

_Please don't make me…_

"Did you find the painkillers?" she whispered to Chloe, not turning.

"Yeah," Chloe squeaked, stepping up beside her, crying now. "He's almost out."

Tamara closed her eyes for a moment before opening them again. "I know."

Chloe gave out a quiet, weak sob, both hands wrapped around herself. "He doesn't know me. He looked right at me but he didn't recognize me. I told him who I am, and he just went crazy."

Tamara shook her head. "He knows. It's just something that happens, something in his brain goes a little haywire. It always passes."

"Why does it happen?" Chloe hiccuped. "What if it doesn't pass?"

She hesitated. "I don't know. There's not much I've been able to learn about this condition."

Chloe put a hand on his head. Tamara knew what she was thinking: his brilliant mind was wasting away, as his body was, and they couldn't stop it. He was losing everything that made him.

"Did you give him the pain medicine?"

Chloe shook his head. "He wouldn't let me."

They stood in silence, the words hanging in the air like a raincloud. Chloe finally sank down into the chair, taking Rush's hand in both of hers. Tamara's radio killed the quiet.

" _T.J., this is Brody, come in."_

She got her radio in hand with a sigh. "Yeah, Brody."

" _I'm in the still. I've got that batch you were asking for."_

Disinfectant. She'd forgotten she ever asked him for it. Rubbing her head, she said, "Okay. I'll be by a little later."

A pause followed.  _"I think it would be best if you got it now."_

She frowned at her walkie-talkie.  _Now what?_  "I'm kind of in the middle of something." It wasn't totally true, but she hadn't rebounded yet.

" _I really recommend it."_

"I'll send Varro."

" _No, it really should be you."_

She wanted to throw the radio across the room. "Why?"

" _Trust me."_

Whatever that meant. She sighed and put a hand on Chloe's shoulder. "I'll be right back. Call me right away if he wakes up, okay?"

Chloe didn't look at her. "Okay."

She looked to Varro, who had hung back out of the way. "Mind staying here for a few minutes? Just in case."

"Of course not," he said quietly.

"Thanks. I'll be back soon."

She hurried out, wanting to be away as briefly as possible. In one of the corridors she met Colonel Young coming from the opposite direction.

"T.J.," he greeted her as they neared.

She nodded, making an effort to mask her turmoil, trying not to run on by. "Sir."

But he halted and squinted at her, perceptive as always. "What's wrong?"

She thought about brushing the question off, but sighed instead and stopped, leaning against the wall. "Rush had another incident."

He closed his eyes and pinched his nose. "How bad was it this time?"

She moved a stray strand of hair away from her face. "It's getting worse. He forgot his own name and managed to find a scalpel before I calmed him down." The colonel shot her a look of alarm, but she just shook her head. "Everyone's fine. Nobody got hurt. He's asleep now, but if this keeps happening…"

"He could cause some serious damage," Young said thoughtfully.

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you call me?"

She bit her lips. Honestly, it hadn't been her first instinct, and the colonel hadn't done much to help up to now. He seemed to be avoiding the infirmary. Like a lot of people. "It was over so fast. I got Varro in there, but I was afraid that too many people at once would make him feel attacked."

He frowned a little, as if slighted that she had gone to Varro first. Then he sighed, perhaps deciding the fight wasn't worth it right now. "Well, at least no one was hurt."

"Yeah. He seemed more worried about getting himself away from the I.V."

"Maybe you should keep a two-man detail in there from now on."

She nodded. "That's a good idea. Chloe and Varro are there right now."

He sighed, then came to her and gathered her to him. She couldn't even cry anymore. She was bereft of tears, almost devoid of any feeling at all. She was tired. She just wanted this to be over.

No, she didn't, and she hated herself for thinking that way. She didn't want it to be over. She wanted it not to be happening. She wanted it all never to have happened. She wanted to go back in time. She wanted to save Rush. That was all.

"How close are we?" the colonel asked softly.

She wished people would stop asking her that. "I don't know. Not far. It could be any time."

He squeezed her. "Then I should let you get back to it."

She pulled away. "Yeah. I'm just on my way to the still and then I'll be heading back."

"Okay."

She walked away, feeling his eyes on her back until she turned the corner.

Upon reaching the still, she immediately discovered why Brody had called her. It was Eli. He was huddled up at a table, tilting sideways against the wall, face flushed, propped up on one elbow. Three bottles and a mug sat in front of him. She went to his side.

"Hey."

He turned his head. Bloodshot eyes blinked owlishly to her. "Oh. Hey, T.J."

She hesitated. He sounded froggy and slurred. Somehow she knew the bottles were empty. "Are you okay?"

"Sure."

No jokes. No sarcasm. No optimistic spin on his present condition. Just, "Sure". It was a stupid question anyway.

She sat opposite him. "What are you doing in here?"

He gave her a look - a look that asked if she was stupid, a look that would have offended her at any other time from anyone else. From Eli, it just broke her heart. "I'm scuba diving. What does it look like?"

She winced. "Sorry."

He softened, shaking his head and looking guilty. "No, I'm sorry. I'm…actually hiding."

She raised an eyebrow. "Hiding from who?"

"Colonel Young," he mumbled. "He won't leave me alone. He's on my case about everything now that Rush can't work anymore. I can't get a second of peace."

She tried to give him a reassuring smile. "So this is where you come to get peace?" she guessed.

He didn't answer, just dropping his eyes to stare deep into his mug.

"Eli, try to cut him a little slack, okay? He's having a hard time too."

Eli snorted.

'"You look like you're not doing very well either."

He made a  _tch_  sound. "Is anyone?"

Fair point. "No, not really," she said honestly. "And you're not the only one fixing to wake up with a hangover tomorrow." He ignored her. "But why do I get the feeling this is about more than Colonel Young?"

He grunted, saying, "I don't want to talk about it," and took a long swallow.

"Maybe you should have some water with that."

He pointed wordlessly at one of the bottles.

She'd never seen him like this. She wasn't sure how to take it. "Okay. But really, maybe you should just go to bed. It's not healthy to drink so much."

As if to deliberately annoy her, he topped off his mug. "Can't sleep; too much work to do." His voice was brittle, biting, and sounded very much like he was trying to channel Rush. "Colonel would have my hide."

She frowned, uneasy. "It's because he trusts you, Eli."

"Well, I wish he wouldn't!" he finally snapped. "I don't want to be the one everyone runs to when a light goes out or a door won't open or the ship is about to blow up. That's  _Rush's_  job."

She heard what he wasn't saying. He didn't want to take Rush's place. He didn't want Rush's place to have to be taken. She didn't know how to answer him, and she had to smother a sigh. Seriously, she was too tired for this. When did she become the ship therapist?

"I've been trying to come by all day but that stupid console is still broken and I can't figure out how to fix it," Eli went on. "I told Brody to do it but he doesn't have a clue, Chloe is no help at all, and Volker had less luck than me. I'm tempted to just leave it like that and let the new crew figure it out. Good luck to them. Plus I'm trying to solve a math problem the colonel gave me."

She smiled humorlessly. He truly did look hard at work. "Well, I don't think Rush will be much help, if that's what you're getting at."

He rolled his eyes. "No, of course not. I just want him to know I'm not trying to ignore him or anything."

"You don't need to explain yourself, Eli. It's okay."

He appeared only slightly relieved. "Is everything okay? I mean, I'm sure you'd tell us if something had happened, but…" He shrugged clumsily.

She nodded, choosing to keep to herself what had happened with Chloe. "I'll let you know. Right now he's just sleeping. Has been all day." He didn't really react, and Tamara felt an uninvited obligation to tell him the truth. With a sigh, she said, "Listen, Eli, I want you to be prepared. It's…going to be soon."

He stiffened, and she would never have noticed if she hadn't been watching for it, his jaw tightening, his shoulders rising almost imperceptibly. He chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment. He seemed instantly more sober. "How soon?" he asked evenly.

She shook her head. "Very soon. That's all I know. Maybe…a day?"

He looked stricken. It was so easy to ignore if you didn't think about it. Don't consider the man fading away in the innards of the ship and he won't ever go. Ignore the problem and it won't be real. Faced now with reality, Eli looked ready to cry.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

He cursed. "Have you ever noticed how people change?" he blurted. Maybe not sober after all. "It happens a lot. Nobody stays the same, ever. And that's supposed to be good, right? Like change is supposed to happen?"

She listened silently, unsure where he was going with this. He was giving her a questioning look, and she nodded. So much for not wanting to talk about it. "Yeah, that's what they say."

He scoffed. "Well, what do  _they_  know? Change sucks. I wish everything could stay the same all the time."

She was trying to follow. "If things don't change, they can't get better."

He slammed his mug onto the table, startling her. "No. When things change, they die."

"Eli…"

"It's not fair," Eli ranted. "After the rockslide, nobody cared that he was gone. No one mourned him, no one missed him. We were just excited to have tomatoes.  _Tomatoes_. You know, like our lead scientist hadn't just  _died_  right after another crew member committed suicide. Because none of that matters, right? Seriously?"

She didn't know what to say. She remembered her own indifference after the rockslide, how her biggest concern at the time was low shower pressure. Not the fact that a valuable member of their crew had apparently just been killed.

Eli swore out loud. "If he knew, he would have been so disappointed in me!"

She blinked. "In you?"

"Nobody cared," Eli went on, ignoring her question. "But it was his own fault nobody cared! And now look! He's dying, I'm drunk, Chloe can't stop crying, you're a wreck, and the colonel is about ready to put someone's head through a wall. All because he  _changed_  and made us care about him! Why couldn't he have stayed the way he was? We're just fine getting rid of someone we don't like, but losing someone we love is impossible!"

She winced. He seemed not even to know she was there anymore, just haranguing his mug like it was the source of all his problems. She looked helplessly to Brody behind the counter, who was just leaning forward with his forehead in his hand. "Eli…"

He shoved his hair back, and she could see tears on his face. She reached out, pried the mug from his hands, and held on to his fingers; he dropped his head but didn't pull away.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, as much for him as for herself. "You're right: this isn't easy. But it's not meant to be. What would life be like without someone to love? People are the most important things in the universe, and the fact that you're in here right now proves that you know that. The more you care about someone, the more it hurts when you lose them." She squeezed his hands. "But it won't hurt this bad forever. I promise."

"Can I see him?" he tearfully asked.

"He's asleep," she repeated, gently. "He really needs his rest."

"Well, can I just come anyway? I just want to see him."

She gave in, nodding. "Yeah, of course. Chloe's in there now, but I don't think she'll mind the company."

They rose together. Tamara got the disinfectant from Brody, then helped Eli make his staggering way to the infirmary. They found the occupants in the same way she'd left them. Varro ducked away without a word.

"No change," Chloe reported. "Although Colonel Young came by."

"Did he need something?"

She shook her head. "He just watched Rush for awhile and then he left. He brought us some food."

Tamara smiled a little at the colonel's thoughtfulness. She regarded Chloe for a moment, taking in the spiritless eyes, the pale lips, the slouched shoulders. "Hey," she said softly, "why don't you get some rest? You need it. I can handle it from here."

Chloe looked like every part of her wanted to protest, but she nodded weakly and went to the bed Tamara had napped in earlier, curling up into a little ball and pulling the blanket up over her shoulders. Tamara checked Rush's pulse. Weak, weaker every day, but still there. He was breathing normally for the most part. His vitals were within acceptable ranges. She put the disinfectant on her desk and returned to the chair, falling into it with an overburdened sigh. Eli sat in the other chair and just watched.

"I've been trying to figure out who stole the vaccine," he said. He was staring at Rush's sleeping form, an unknowable sadness in his inebriated eyes. "I've checked kino after kino. I can't find anything. Whoever did it either dodged them all or erased the file."

Tamara nodded. "I know. Rush and I spent hours searching too. I don't know how it happened."

"Who would do that?" Eli wondered aloud. "I mean, why would anyone do that? Don't they trust you?"

He was still staring at Rush. "Huh?" she said, unsure which of them he was talking to.

Now he looked at her. "Well, it's like they didn't believe that the dose they were given would be enough. After all this time you'd think people would realize that you know what you're doing."

That was sweet. This was why she loved Eli so much. "I didn't know what I was doing," she confessed. "It was a wild guess that happened to work out."

He just shrugged. "You've never been wrong before. That's good enough for me."

She could have kissed him. "Thank you, Eli."

He smiled back a little, then didn't. "So how...how do you think it'll happen?" He cringed in preparation of her answer, but did not retract the question.

She looked at her patient. "I can't say for sure, but a guess...a heart attack or stroke would be the most likely. Although with that clot he coughed up yesterday, that adds a whole slew of other possibilities. I mean, he could...drown for all I know. Or choke to death, or starve…" She hid behind her hands, overcome by a violent shudder. She was desperate for something else to think about. Anything else. She looked at Eli, who seemed ready to break down again. "Tell me about your mom," she said quickly, to salvage their sanity.

"Huh?"

"You know, what's she like? I know about her illness so you don't have to talk about that if you don't want to."

He paused thoughtfully. "No, it's okay. Sometimes it's good to talk about it." Shifting to make himself more comfortable, he said, "She was a nurse, like I told you. Well, the other you. Before she got sick she was really cool. Her cookies are worth killing for and I always told her she should have owned a bakery. Nothing got to her. She was always happy, always smiling about something. I think that's probably what my dad couldn't handle, in the end. She changed so much and he just couldn't cope. But it wasn't her fault."

He was scowling at Rush, but she knew he wasn't seeing him. "That must have been so hard," she prodded softly.

He snorted. "It sucked. Big-time. I hated him for so long for leaving. My mom just fell apart." He sat quietly for a minute, and then continued, a little guiltily, "But it's not just her. I mean yeah, it was her husband and everything, but he was my father. Like, what about me, you know?"

Tamara nodded. Poor kid. A curious thought, considering they had recently celebrated his thirtieth birthday. "You were fourteen," she remembered.

He snorted. "Yeah. Fourteen, barely shaving, going through that 'special' time of growing up when you feel like everyone hates you anyway. Did wonders for my self-esteem, you know? Even if he couldn't stand being around my mom, what about me? He left me too. He left me with her. Like I wasn't worth sticking around for. Or I wasn't worth taking along." He bit down on his lip and swiped at a tear crawling down his face, as if offended that it was there.

She reached over Rush's body and took Eli's hand. "Hey."

"I didn't mean that," he assured her. The dam had broken, and he was crying again. "I do love my mom. I don't wish my dad had taken me with him, I don't wish my mom had been left alone, I just wish she hadn't gotten sick in the first place. But some days it's  _so hard_ , T.J., to look at her knowing how sick she is, knowing how there's no cure, I'm going to lose her too early. I wish  _that_  wasn't happening. I wish I didn't have to watch it happen."

"I know," Tamara said. "I know you love your mom, Eli. It's okay."

He leaned forward with an elbow on his knee, propping his face up with his hand. He held Tamara's fingers tightly. Looking at Rush, he said, "It's like this. I'm doing the same thing with him. He's leaving me too, just like my dad. Is this supposed to be practice or something? Is this a test? I think I'm failing."

She shook her head and stood, coming around the bed, holding his hand the whole way. She stood behind him and wrapped him in her arms. "You're not failing, you're normal. This is the grieving process. It's natural."

"I'm tired of losing people," he choked out.

She nodded, squeezing her eyes shut. "Me too."

"He told me he was proud of me," he said. "My dad never told me that. My mom says it, but she's my mom, she's supposed to.  _Rush_  said he's proud of me. What am I supposed to do with that?"

Tamara held him a little tighter. "You remember it," she said. "You honor it. You keep on working hard. For him."

He sniffed. "You know what's the stupidest part? I've learned so much from him. He's taught me more than I ever thought I could know. And all I ever learned from my father was how to make your kid hate you."

"That is still a valuable lesson," she allowed.

He snorted. "Yeah. But I'd rather not have learned it."

"I know." She held him for a moment longer, planted a kiss on his head for good measure, and returned to her seat. Eli reached for Chloe's tray of food with a mutter about how she wasn't doing anything with it. "I'd really love to meet your mom," she said softly.

He nodded and smiled a little, drying his face with his hand. "I think she'll love to meet you too."

"Let's make that happen."

"Probably at the arrival."

She made a face. "After," she said. "I don't know how it's all going to go down once we get back. We might not have time."

He didn't say anything, just nodding and spooning in some food. They fell into a deep silence, lost within themselves, listening to the clicking of the I.V. monitor and the gentle breathing of the sleeping souls in the room. Eli succumbed to the alcohol around 2230, slumping in the chair, probably not comfortable and setting up to wake up stiff in the morning. Tamara sat in the quiet and waited.

Thirty minutes later, Rush finally woke. He made a short grunting noise, shifting restlessly, then sat up holding his head.

"Hey," Tamara said, glad he was conscious and himself again. "You okay?"

He shook his head. "Hurts."

"What does?"

"Everything." He groaned. "Painkillers."

His short answers were troubling, but for now she let them go. She took the bottle off the table and unscrewed the lid, handing it to him. "Here." He gave himself a massive dose, enough to worry her, then looked around the room, disoriented. "You slept all day," she explained.

A nod. "Tired."

"Obviously."

"I'm stiff."

That was an improvement in speech. She reached over and began working his muscles. He let out a low hiss, and very gradually managed to release his head. She felt him relax a bit at a time under her touch. "Better?"

"Yeah." He rolled his head side to side and to the front, sighing. "Think I need a walk."

"Really?"

He nodded. "I need to get out of this bed." He turned to swing his legs off and seemed to notice for the first time the young man asleep in the chair. "Oh."

"Chloe is here too," Tamara told him. "She wanted me to let her know when you woke up."

He was quiet at first, then he shook his head. "No, don't wake them. We won't be gone long."

"It sounded important. She wanted to talk to you."

He slid to the foot of the bed, forcing Tamara to follow him with the I.V. pole. "Let them sleep. They'll be here when we get back."

 _Yeah, and they'll be pissed if they wake up and find you missing_. She obliged with a sigh, coming up to his side to take his arm. "Where to?"

"Garden," he said. "I could do with some fresher air."

No doubt. They went away, steering through the halls to the greenhouse. The dome had been repaired by the maintenance robots not long after they came out of stasis, and all the plants were thriving again with flowers and fruit. Rush said nothing as they meandered through, keeping his eyes upturned, now and then reaching out to touch one of the shrubs. Twice he stopped walking just to stare out the glass. Tamara suspected that was partly the purpose of this haunt. He needed the air, but he really wanted the stars.

She wanted to say something. She wanted to reach out and comfort him, to reassure him, to tell him he was going to be all right. She wanted to promise that she was going to fix this. She wanted the lie. She wanted the truth. She wanted the lie to  _be_  the truth. She wanted to see him smile again.  _I tried my best._ She watched him study the heavenly lights, knowing it would be the last time he ever saw them, and she couldn't seem to say anything at all. Words had become meaningless now. Sometimes, her best wasn't good enough.

"Tamara."

She blinked. "Huh?"

He was looking at her oddly. "You okay?"

 _No, I'm not okay._  And he probably knew that. She cleared her throat. "Yeah. You?"

He nodded. Everyone was lying these days.

"Observation deck?" she suggested.

"Yeah."

Off they went. Neither spoke much, just remarking on how quiet the ship was. He mentioned that the silence was one of the reasons he liked working late at night. Easier to concentrate, he said.

Halfway to the observation deck, Rush stopped with a stifled gasp. His fingers tightened on her hand, and she turned to ask him what was wrong…and she barely caught him as he went down, grabbing him under the arms, his body limp and dead weight. Cradling the back of his head, she dropped him frantically to the floor and shook him.

" _Rush!_ "

He wasn't breathing.

There was a moment of paralyzing horror before her body finally responded to her brain's rabid demands to  _do something_ , and she was performing CPR before she realized it. Compress, compress, compress, compress, compress,  _breathe!_  Compress, compress, compress, compress, compress,  _breathe!_  Was she even doing this right?!

She checked for a pulse. Nothing. Hysteria sealed her throat and her eyes began to burn. "Oh, come on, Rush," she said out loud, pumping his chest. "Not now, not yet, come on, hang on." She gave him a breath and checked again, finding nothing. "Come on, Rush!" She yelled it that time, compressing again. " _Please_ …"

The old familiar darkness was encroaching. It wasn't just the absence of light here in space, it was  _the_   _darkness_ , the hopelessness, the knowledge that everything she was doing was all for naught. She'd felt this before, with Doctor Simms on Icarus, with Riley, with every person who had ever died on the table. Why was she trying? She had expected this all along. Why was she working so hard to save someone she knew she was going to lose? Why shouldn't she just…let him go?

"No!" she cried out to the void. "No, don't go yet! Come  _on_ , Rush! Not yet! Breathe!"

And he did. Tears were flowing now and she pulled him up, holding him close, rocking. He was coughing, gasping, not quite conscious, and she just clung to him and wept.


	19. Chapter 19

 

It was the radio that did it. T.J.'s distraught voice hacked his dreams apart and physically yanked him back to the real world, and suddenly he was on his feet, ready for action, and his first conscious thought was,  _And this is why I didn't join the military_ _._  His second thought was,  _Where's Rush?_

Rush's bed was empty. T.J. wasn't there either. Eli tried to catch up with what was happening, listening to the radio chatter while simultaneously trying to think through a blossoming hangover. Either Rush had gotten up on his own and wandered off, forcing T.J. to go hunt him down, or she had gone with him. Which meant Rush had woken up, and she hadn't told him. His temper flared, quickly squashed when the walkie-talkie said something that made his mind freeze.

_"He just went into cardiac arrest!"_  T.J.'s voice crackled.

Suddenly Chloe was up too.

_"Where are you?"_  Colonel Young answered back.

" _Heading back to the infirmary from the observation deck."_

_"I'm on my way."_

"What's happening?" Chloe demanded, running over. Her eyes were wide and panicked. Eli threw his hands in the air.

"I have no idea! He was there when I fell asleep and now he's gone!"

_"Is he alive?"_  That was Varro.

"What?" Chloe cried. "Is that Rush? Are they talking about Rush?"

"I don't know!" But of course it was Rush. It had to be.

_"He's breathing,"_  T.J. answered.  _"I got his heart beating again, but he's unresponsive!"_

_"We're coming."_

Chloe dropped into the chair, rocking and sobbing. Eli was at a loss. He felt like smashing someone's face in or putting a hole through the wall, but he also wanted to just curl up in a corner and cry like a little kid. He settled for pacing. Ten steps up, ten steps back, running his hands through his hair. What was taking so long? He went to Chloe and stood behind her, wrapping her in his arms. She held fast to him and kept crying.

When T.J., Young, and Varro arrived, pushing Rush on the kino sled, Eli hauled Chloe's chair back from the bed to give them space. Rush was pale, floppy, and unconscious.

"What's happening?" Eli shouted.

"His heart stopped," T.J. said, in medic-mode. Young and Varro transferred Rush to the bed while Eli just stared at her.

"What? Why?"

"I don't know, Eli. Heart attack, maybe. It can cause cardiac arrest."

"You said he had a day!"

"I said maybe!"

Chloe stood abruptly from the chair. "Why didn't you tell me he was awake?!" she shouted furiously.

T.J. didn't answer. She flicked a syringe of something before injecting it into the I.V., then began carefully tugging off Rush's shirt.

"T.J.!"

"Chloe, I  _do not_  have time to argue with you right now! I'm trying to help him!" She slapped some leads onto Rush's skin, then leaned over him and began gently tapping his face. "Hey, Rush, wake up. Hey."

He didn't answer. And then he did. He moved his head, then his arm. Eli thought he would faint. "Tamara, what…"

"It's okay, you're okay," she told him. "Something happened but you're okay. I need you to talk to me. Rush? Hey, stay awake."

Rush seemed delirious, fighting to sit up, staring at his right arm in confusion. "Can't move," he said. His left hand was flat against his head. He grit his teeth and let out a groan, louder and louder.

"Rush?" T.J. said. "Talk to me! What's wrong?"

"What's happening?" Chloe cried.

Eli gripped his hair in both hands. It couldn't end like this. Not like this, not for him. "We have to do something. Something, anything."

"I don't know what's happening," T.J. said, "but I need you both to leave now."

"What?"

"I'm sorry, Chloe, but I really need to focus on him right now! Please go! I'll call you when you can come back."

Chloe was a mess, sinking down to the cold, unforgiving infirmary floor, clinging to Rush's hand and weeping. Eli stooped down and picked her up, bodily dragging her out the door even though all he wanted was to sit down there right beside her. He could hear T.J. frantically trying to get Rush to talk, and then there was silence as the bulkhead slammed closed after them.

They waited for ages. Eli kept pacing outside the door. He wished the bulkhead wasn't soundproof; he'd give anything for some idea of what was happening in there. He really, really wanted to wake up. That was all. He just wanted to know that this was all a nightmare and Rush was fine and everyone was fine and they were going home and everything was  _fine_. Was that too much to ask for?

Chloe had closed in on herself, back against the wall, knees drawn up to her chest. She hadn't stopped crying for a minute. He wanted to soothe her, but he had nothing to offer. He hadn't enough comfort to even give himself. After an eternity he just sat at her side, their shoulders touching, the wall behind him cold through his shirt. She turned to him, and he put his arm around her.

"What if he dies in there?" she asked between sobs. "I have something to tell him! What if I missed my chance?"

His tightened throat allowed no answer. He made some kind of smothered sound but couldn't manage any actual words. T.J. should have woken him up. This was so unfair. He was prepared to be violently angry if Rush died in there before he had a chance to say goodbye.

A staticky sound made them both leap. Eli yanked his walkie from his belt as warbled voices came hiccuping through. Something about compressions and  _right now_. Someone must have been leaning on their radio.

" _Get the bag!"_  T.J.'s voice commanded.

The bag. That meant Rush had stopped breathing.

"This can't be happening," Chloe said. Her head was in her hands, and she was just  _shaking_.

Eli desperately wanted to shut his radio off, but he also needed to know what was going on in that room. Anything was better than sitting out here in wretched suspense. If something developed, he wanted to know about it.

But the radio did not speak again. It was silent and unsympathetic, and he felt an irrational urge to smash it against the wall.

_Don't die yet. Please don't die yet. I'm not ready._

He felt so cold. At some point Matt showed up and sat on Chloe's other side without a word. Eavesdropping on the radio, or sixth sense? It didn't matter. Eli rested his arms on his knees, shivering without knowing why, unable to stop even when Chloe put her arms around him.

The anticipation was never-ending. His heart beat the seconds away and every minute seemed longer than the last. Eventually he became convinced that nothing would ever happen again. Time had stopped. He would sit here on this floor forever, and that door would never open again, and he would never see another person again, and he would never know what happened to Rush, and Rush would never actually die, and that was okay. He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes and prepared to settle in for infinity.

But infinity was shorter than he ever could have hoped, and that door did open, and T.J. gave him a look he would never forget.


	20. Chapter 20

 

 _Beep…beep… beep…_ said the heart monitor. The only real sign Rush was still alive. Stroke, T.J. had told them, a bad one this time, just minutes after his heart stopped. Everything was happening so fast now. A miracle he hadn't suffered a big one already, she said. Significant brain cell death, she said.

It won't be long now, she said. Time to say goodbye.

Eli Wallace watched as Rush struggled for awareness, his eyes fluttering open and closed, his mouth trying to form words that would not come. Most of his right side was paralyzed, so T.J. had put the I.V. in his left hand to keep him from taking it out in his delirium. A plastic mask gave him oxygen, and the monitor reported every erratic heartbeat.

It was Doomsday. Eli didn't know what kind of sick twist of fate had caused Rush to end up half dead on the most important day of this fiasco, but sitting there at the bedside, he wondered if it was actually better this way. Rush had been fighting seizures all night and now he could barely remain conscious long enough to make eye contact, so there was no way the IOA would be getting any information out of him. He was probably going to be so out of it that he wouldn't even know there was anything going on. It would be more peaceful for him.

T.J. had allowed a limited number of people in the infirmary, restricted to a short list of individuals she felt, in her judgement, he would want there. Colonel Young was one. And Eli, of course. Chloe. Lieutenants Scott and James. Master Sergeant Greer. And T.J. herself. Telford had arrived to herald the coming of the IOA, having taken over the body of Airman Dunning. Everyone else was told to stay out of the way. Eli had snagged first rights to deathbed farewells, but now that he was here, he could find nothing to say. He had put it all on the kino, but he didn't know if Rush had ever watched it.

Eli had one fist pressed against his mouth, the other tucked under his arm, his mind swamped with memories that drowned him in anger and guilt and regret. He tried to sift through them and find something good to hold to, but all he could think about was how he had failed his friend. He remembered how excited Rush was back on Icarus. He was practically giddy to have Eli on the project, glad to finally have someone on his level. Someone he could work with. Someone he could teach. He had even come personally with General O'Neill to Eli's front door, and he was the first to welcome him to the  _Hammond_. He was so  _happy_.

After the first connection on Icarus failed, and especially once they got to the ship, things shifted. Rush's enthusiasm soon became eclipsed by cold resentment. Eli saw it in every glare, heard it in every scoff. He realized early on that he was smarter than Rush. Their personalities and priorities clashed at almost every turn. It didn't help things that Eli kept siding with Young against him during the saga of their power struggle the first few weeks, and when Rush started keeping secrets and sneaking around, Eli was helping the colonel spy on him. It was a dysfunctional relationship, at best, and the truth was clean and uncomplicated: this was not the partnership Rush was hoping for.

But they had gotten _so close_ there at the end. And although Eli didn't think he would ever be capable of what Rush wanted him to be, he knew they still could have done spectacular things. Now they'd never get the chance again. He found it very difficult to look him in the eye right now, and he was shamefully glad that Rush could barely look at anything.

He took a quaky breath, and when he spoke, his voice was weak. "Rush." There was a change in the heartbeat. Eli took that to mean that Rush could hear him. "Hey, it's Eli. Umm…I don't…um…did you watch the kino recording I made for you…?"

With monumental effort, Rush opened his eyes. It took several moments for him to move them to look at Eli, and they were only half-focused when he did. But Eli could see Rush in there, behind the oblivion, desperate to make a connection. Somehow, Rush managed to nod.

Eli found himself smiling, though the corners of his mouth shook. That was all he needed to know. There was a question in Rush's eyes, and Eli nodded. "I found the one you made for me too. And what you said really…" He took a stabling breath and blinked away the tears. "It really means the world to me. I just thought you should know that."

Rush nodded and his eyes fell closed. It seemed all he could manage to do at this point. Eli wanted to stay, wanted to just be there with his friend when the time finally came, but there were people waiting on him. He awkwardly reached out and took Rush's paralyzed hand, squeezed it, and stood.

Whispering, unable to do any more than that, he said, "I'm going to miss you."

Rush did not squeeze back. Couldn't. But his eyes were open again, and Eli liked to think that he wanted to.

—

Matthew Scott settled into the chair. Rush looked so small, so…not weak, but frail. It was weird to see him like this. He was always so bold, so  _present_ , so much larger than life, and now he was barely here in either body or mind. It felt wrong. Most of Matt's encounters with Rush had involved shouting, maybe a little shoving, but he knew an asset when he saw one, and this man was an asset. He was a fighter. But he was a fighter who had finally met an opponent he could not beat, and Matt felt robbed on a personal level that it was ending this way.

"Doctor Rush," he said softly. Rush's eyes cracked open. Matt slid the chair a little to put himself in Rush's field of view so he wouldn't have to work too hard to see him. "I've wanted to tell you something for a while, but I never really got the guts until now." He took a breath and let it out. "You told me in a dream once that you're not a great man."  _Okay, that sounds weird._  "I'm sure there are some out there who would agree with that, but I don't think people give you enough credit. It's human nature to dwell on the negative instead of being thankful for the positive and I admit that I fell into that trap too. It's your fault we were stuck out here to begin with, but you did a lot for us to make up for it. And for me in particular. They told me that you helped save my life on that planet with the poisonous plants."

He'd heard the story several times, from Chloe and T.J. and Greer. It meant a great deal that Rush would risk his own life and stay behind to help him.

"But I think the biggest thing you did for me was how well you took care of Chloe. You helped her when I couldn't, and I'm glad she had you to go to. I know you weren't thinking of me at the time, but it helped me anyway knowing she was being cared for."

Rush's eyes wandered over Matt's shoulder to the door of the infirmary where Chloe was waiting for her turn. Matt turned to look at her and could see her watching them. Crying.

"She makes me happy," he whispered, angling to Rush again. "You saved her life, and she means more to me than you will ever know. So you may not be a great man, but you are a good man, and there's no difference when it counts. I'm gonna remember you, and I'm gonna do it happily."

Rush closed his eyes, then blinked them open again. Time was getting short. With Rush's permission Matt took his hand and said a little prayer, and when he stood to go, he studied him one last time with a little smile.

"You don't need to worry about her," he promised. "I'm going to take care of her the best I can. I swear."

And although he might have imagined it, Rush looked more at peace.

—

Despite having to practically bribe T.J. into letting her in the infirmary, Vanessa James could think of nothing to say. She had not, until this point, allowed herself to feel guilty for being the one who had brought those deadly insects onto the ship, but sitting here now she was overcome by a sense of wretched responsibility so acute that it made her almost unable to speak. She held her hand over her mouth and just gazed at him, feeling sorry, feeling grateful, feeling things she couldn't even name. This was her fault, and she just wanted to be here.

She and Rush had never been close, had hardly interacted at all in all the time they'd known each other, but right now, she felt inexplicably grieved that she hadn't made a bigger effort to know him. There was obviously something there that was worth loving. She could see it in Eli's face, in Chloe's tears, in the way T.J. couldn't stop shaking. She'd done her part to help care for him up to now, but she wished she could have helped on a deeper level. She wondered what might have been. Nothing profound, she was certain; but she regretted not trying harder.

"We're going home," she finally said. She brushed some hair away from his face. He twitched slightly and blinked as if she'd woken him up. "Thank you. Thank you." Leaning down, she kissed his forehead, then slid off the chair and slipped away.

—

Ronald Greer did not sit. He stood out of respect, one hand on Rush's, the other over his heart. For a full minute they just stared silently at each other in mutual deference, until Greer pounded his own chest with his fist, and Rush nodded his head again.

—

Tamara Johansen was already in tears before she even reached the chair. She watched his eyebrows knit together and he tried to speak, but she just shook her head. "It's okay," she assured him. "It's okay." His face relaxed. She took a breath and rubbed away a tear from her face. "Listen, um…I found the kino." She smiled shakily. "Thank you, Doctor Rush. What you said is very important to me. I'm so sorry I couldn't do more for you. You know I tried."

He closed his eyes, and she squeezed his hand.

"I want to thank you for everything else too," she said. "I don't think I have yet. Thank you for getting us home. Thank you for giving up everything so I could have a chance to see my family again. I don't think I realized how much that means to me until now." She had to look away so she could gather herself again. She felt him watching her. She sniffed, dragging her arm across her eyes. "Thank you for being my friend. I wish there was something else I could have done. I'm so sorry, Rush. I'm going to miss you."

It wasn't enough. After all of this, all that he'd done, all that she'd done, it felt so hollow, so shallow. There were things she felt that she couldn't express, so she resorted to something familiar. She brought his hand to her face and kissed it.

"I love you."

And she meant it.

—

Everett Young sank into the chair, feeling about thirty years older than he was, wondering if he looked as tired as he felt. His very presence seemed to have an effect, and Rush opened his eyes immediately. His gaze was mostly unfocused but Everett knew he was aware of him.

"Hey," he sighed. He rubbed the back of his neck, a habit he'd picked up somewhere along the way. "I, uh…I don't know what to say. I never really thought we'd be here like this. I promised everyone we'd make it home, but it looks like I'll be breaking that promise one last time. I'm sorry."

Rush just watched him from behind the oxygen mask. No reaction. No change in his expression. Not even blinking, and he was barely breathing now.

"I wish this wasn't happening, Rush. I hope you know that." Then he shook his head, smiling morbidly. "Anyway, I found the kino. You think you're pretty hilarious, don't you? I'm going to have Brody weld that air vent shut."

Now half of Rush's face smiled.

 _The gallows humor,_ Everett thought, shaking his head. _If not for that we wouldn't have any._  "As usual, you're right. In the end we found a way to make this thing work. It was really hard, probably harder than it should have been, but we got there. _You_ are a _lot_ of work, but lucky for you, I like my job."

Rush glared a little, but Everett knew it was all for show. He reached over and took Rush's right hand - not the left one, to avoid the I.V. - and shook it firmly.

"Thanks for getting us home. Job well done."

Rush nodded to him.

Approaching footsteps announced Telford coming up behind him. "They're here."

 _No, not yet!_ They weren't finished. "Can't you stall them?"

Telford snorted. That was a "no".

Everett got to his feet, glancing one last time to Rush. "You want to say a few words?" he asked Telford quietly.

Telford looked to Rush, swallowed, and shook his head. "No, I'm good."

Fair enough. Everett stepped away from the bed, and T.J. went to take his place, crouching down with one protective hand on each of Rush's shoulders. "Everyone, the IOA has arrived. Please stay calm. Colonel Telford and I will handle this."

The bulkhead opened, and he stepped in to block the doorway.

"Colonel," said the man who could only be Mr. Strom, in the body of one of the civilians. Behind him were the faces of two others, occupied by the jurors. One of them was Camille's. Everett remembered how furious she had been when she was told that her presence would not be permitted at the inquest, and for a minute he thought she'd start another mutiny right there, this time against the IOA. It was only with a promise from him not to let anything happen that she grudgingly gave up her body to the juror. And that was another reason Everett thought this was a stupid idea: the limited number of communication stones prevented the formation of a proper "committee".  Sweep job indeed.

"Mr. Strom," said Everett  

"If you'll excuse me."

"I won't. I apologize, but Doctor Rush is unable to participate in any interrogations today."

Strom frowned. "It wasn't a request, Colonel. This is a direct order. Stand aside."

"I'm not going to do that."

Telford moved to stand beside him. "Mr. Strom, we have tried to warn you about this. I'm afraid what you're planning is impossible."

"I'll be the judge of that," said Strom. "I want to see him."

 _Judge, jury, and executioner. All present, say, "Aye"._ "Absolutely not," Everett maintained. "He is not well and should be left alone."

Someone stepped up at his back, and he somehow knew it was Chloe. The shift in Strom's eyes confirmed it. "Miss Armstrong," Strom said, smiling. "Glad to see you're well."

Her upbringing in politics had taught her many things, Everett knew, and a careful glance to her face told him she was prepared to use every one of them. "Mr. Strom," she said unlovingly, "Doctor Rush is in no condition to answer any questions, and I am in no mood to let him try."

Strom lost all smiles. "Young lady-"

" _Miss Armstrong_ ," she corrected him with gritted teeth.

He hesitated. "Miss Armstrong, I'm afraid that you don't have any authority to influence this one way or the other."

"Oh, I don't know about that."

Matthew came up to stand next to Chloe. Greer took his place beside Telford. James stood next to Greer, and Eli behind James. Strom looked bewildered.

"What is the meaning of this? Do you realize you are all defying a direct order?"

"They're following orders from me," Everett said, "and I won't allow this to happen, direct order or not."

Just then, a man appeared from around the corner and stepped up behind Strom. The body was Becker's, but it could not disguise the gait, the carriage, and the sympathetic gaze. Everett's heart sank. 

"General O'Neill," he said. He should have expected as much, but somehow, he hadn't.

"Colonel," O'Neill greeted him. "I see there is a problem here."

Everett nodded. "There is. Rush is on his way out, sir. I don't want to put him through this."

"This isn't about what you want, Everett. This is about making sure someone answers for what has happened."

"He's answering for it," Everett said. "Right now. In that bed. He's almost gone already. What is the point of all this? He couldn't answer any questions if he tried."

"Due process," said O'Neill. Everett knew he wasn't speaking his own words, acting on orders from his own superiors. That didn't help.

"Screw due process," Everett snarled. " _Look_  at him. This is worse than any punishment the IOA could come up with, don't you think? He will never see Earth again. Isn't that enough?"

The general sighed and shook his head. "There's nothing I can do, Colonel. Believe me, if I could make this whole thing go away right now, I would. But the fact is, we need answers."

"I understand that,  _sir_ , but  _the fact is_ , you won't be getting any answers from Rush! He hardly knows his own name anymore."

"We have to try."

And that was the final word on the matter, Everett could see it. He felt his control slipping (not that he had much anymore, anyway) and he took a deep breath. "All right. Fine. Just give us a minute."

"Can't do that, Colonel. We have to get this done before he's gone."

Everett swore. "I'm not letting you in here until we're finished! Don't make this harder!"

"Everett-"

"I mean it. This is bad enough without all the political BS." Drawing inspiration and boldness from Matthew, he said, "You can have me court-martialed when we get back home, but right now, these people are saying their goodbyes. Let them do it in peace."

O'Neill didn't answer. Even Strom looked unsure. Everett glanced back at T.J. and nodded, hoping she would know what he was telling her. By the way she bit her lip, he knew that she did.

—

Chloe was very proud of the colonel. To stand up against someone like General O'Neill took guts, especially with Strom standing right there. Although, he was significantly less intimidating in someone else's body. She wondered if Rush could hear them, if he was aware of how hard Young was fighting for him. She thought it would make him glad if he knew.

"Chloe," came the soft whispered voice of T.J. Chloe turned to see her standing halfway between the door and Rush, beckoning with a hand. "I think he's waiting for you."

Chloe went cold. She held her breath and pried her hand out of Matt's fingers, only just realizing they were even there, and walked with short, clumsy steps to Rush's bedside. For a second she just stood there and stared. She didn't want to sit; the chair looked dangerous. He would be gone before she stood again. Although it was crazy, for a moment she couldn't escape the feeling that sitting in that chair would be what killed him, and it was such a terrifying thought that she actually took a step back as if that would help.

"Chloe," T.J. gently prompted her.

Biting on her tongue, she gripped one armrest and then the other, slowly forcing herself down. She couldn't look away from his face. His eyes were closed, and she couldn't tell if he was even still conscious. She took a breath. "Doctor Rush," she said, and immediately didn't know why. He hadn't been "Rush" to her in so long, and she couldn't remember ever calling him "Doctor" to his face. She felt shaky, sick, and a little tingly. Her hands were numb. She was hyperventilating.

No reaction. Just the slow  _beep, beep, beep_  of the heart monitor. She looked to T.J., who nodded.

"He can hear you."

Chloe swallowed, forcing her breathing to slow. "Nick." His eyes dragged open. The deep brown seemed to have washed out, and he gazed half-focused somewhere near her face. She could feel the scrutiny of everyone else on the back of her head, heard them murmuring, whispering. She ignored them and focused entirely on Rush. "I have something important to tell you. I really should have said this earlier. I'm so sorry it took me this long." She grasped his useless hand, squeezing gently, and with her other hand she reached down to brush away his hair and touch his face. Whispering, she said, "I found the kino. I love you too."

His paralyzed face betrayed no emotion, but the way his eyes filled up told it all.

Tears were slipping down her cheeks, and a choking sob bubbled in her throat. She pushed the hair out of his face again and sniffed. "And you're wrong about what you told me before. I  _do_  think you made the wrong decision. I'm so happy that T.J. is coming back home, I'm so happy, but I don't know how I will be able to look at her knowing she's the reason you're not here."

He shifted his eyes to hers, and even with his inability to communicate she knew exactly what he was thinking.

"I don't care," she argued. "My head understands. My heart doesn't. All it knows is that she's here, you're leaving me, and that's that." Leaning down, she kissed his cheek, laying her head on his shoulder. "I wish  _you_  were coming home instead. I'm going to miss you so much."

She wanted him to hold her. She missed his voice. She wanted his soothing embrace one last time, the strength of his arms around her back, his warmth, his love. She just felt cold. Isolated. She ached inside and out, feeling very far away even though he was _right there_ , so she laid her arm across his chest and held him instead. She wouldn't let go. Until the end she wouldn't let go. She would stay there with him, no matter how long it took. She shut her burning eyes.

She could hear Colonel Young arguing again with Strom and O'Neill. It was getting heated over there. Telford said something, and Strom said something back, and Matt sounded like he was getting in someone's face. Young interrupted, and then Strom said something again which started the whole thing over. She could feel Rush's heartbeat, weak and uneven, and she wondered if he could hear them too.  _Can't they close the door?_  She wished they would take themselves away. Rush didn't need this.

T.J. was speaking. But not to her. To Strom and Young and O'Neill and all the rest. Chloe couldn't hear what she was saying.

But she did hear Strom. "We must get some answers."

"He needs rest," T.J. responded. "You can question him when he wakes up."

"That's not good enough."

She felt Rush move his left side, the side she was lying on, and then his hand was on her shoulder. The hold was feeble and unsteady, but it was his, and it was the only one she wanted now. She held him a little tighter.

Footsteps coming closer. "Chloe…" said T.J.'s voice.

"No," Chloe said. "I'm not leaving him. I'm not."

There was a pause. "Chloe," T.J. said again, more softly this time. Chloe opened her eyes and tried to look at her, but instead all she could see was the syringe in her hand.  _Sedative_. Her heart jumped into her throat.

"No," she choked. She gripped Rush's shirt as if to protect him. "No, not yet. T.J., not yet."

"I have to," T.J. said. Tears unshed were shining in her eyes, forbidden to be set free. "It's time."

Chloe sat up to look at Rush's face. His eyes were fixed on hers, clear and focused. When he nodded his head, she knew T.J. was right. Suddenly she couldn't breathe.

"What is going on here?" Strom demanded. He had managed to break through the blockade in the doorway and was standing with O'Neill at the next bed over. Chloe bit back a snarl. "What are you giving him?"

T.J. eyed Rush. "It's a stimulant," she lied. The others in the room were gathering around the bed. They all knew what this meant. "He's too weak for this on his own, but this will put him in a better condition to talk."

Chloe lowered her head again, determined not to react. It would only cause problems. Strom didn't look like he completely believed T.J., but neither was he a doctor and he didn't know this drug. If he suspected something, he didn't say so.

"All right," he said. "How long until he will be ready?"

Behold, the king of stupid questions. T.J. was still looking at Rush. He didn't move, just watching her. "I can't say. But this needs time to take affect, so it could be a while."

 _Forever_.

"We'll let you know," Colonel Young said.

O'Neill, meanwhile, observed without objection.

Chloe watched un-breathing as Tamara injected the sedative into Rush's I.V. It was a bluish-green color, and she pointlessly wondered which of the dozens of worlds they'd visited it had come from. It swirled and snaked its way through the tube and disappeared out of her view.

She crawled completely out of the chair and onto the bed, squishing up beside him and planting her face in his shoulder.  _I can't believe you're really leaving_. She gripped his shirt in her fist and physically shook with the effort of trying to keep from ripping the I.V. needle out herself. It wasn't supposed to be like this. 

She would always remember the moment his grip went rigid. And then the moment she realized he wasn't holding her anymore.

—

It wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. He was just very, very tired. But he was warm and he was mostly comfortable. He felt a vague burning sensation where the I.V. needle broke his skin, but no pain. Tamara must have found a way to administer the painkillers through the I.V.; it was the first time in a week that he didn't feel like his skull was cracking open. He had Chloe in his arms. It was nice.

Colonel Young had a hand on his shoulder. Tamara had one on his head. It was Eli who had taken his paralyzed hand, and Greer had covered the one holding Chloe. James was there somewhere, probably holding one of his ankles. He didn't know where Telford went. It…it was nice.

His vision was blurring and going double. He saw things in slow motion with long tails of after-images. Lots of shadows. The voices were muffling and growing distant. He knew what was happening, knew that he wasn't going to wake up again, but he couldn't find it in himself to be afraid, and as he began to slip away he wondered if it was because he had finally done something right. These people were his friends. It had been such a long time since he'd had any that he had forgotten what it felt like. It was nice.

He thought he could hear Chloe crying. That felt wrong. He wanted to comfort her, but he couldn't find her. He couldn't feel much of anything now. So he tightened his hand on what might have been her shoulder instead.

His very last thought before he surrendered to the darkness was that he felt safe at last.


	21. Chapter 21

Nicholas Rush did not believe in the afterlife. He believed in ascension, but that wasn't the same thing. He'd heard hundreds of theories, arguments, philosophies, and opinions, and he hadn't taken to any of them, choosing instead to believe that death was the end, after which there was nothing. He knew once that sedative hit his brain he wouldn't have to worry or wonder where he was going to wake up, because he wasn't going to. It would be over. Not for the people he was leaving behind, certainly; but wasn't that the way of all things?

So it was with infinite amazement that he became cognizant of  _sound_  somewhere out in the darkness. He couldn't see anything, couldn't tell if his eyes were open or closed, and trying to blink didn't help. He wasn't even sure if he _had_ eyes. But his ears were still there, registering that faint, faint sound out in the periphery, and it was getting louder.  _Coming closer?_

_"Doctor Rush?"_

A voice in the abyss. Cutting out the noise, and then replaced by it again. Where was it coming from? A sensation overwhelmed him, or perhaps several did at once – fear, panic, confusion, desperation, longing, elation. These were emotions. And he was feeling them. How was this possible? How was he capable of feeling anything if he was dead? Was this the afterlife? Why was it so dark? And why couldn't he move?

_"Doctor Rush."_

_Who are you?_

And  _what_  was that sound?

_"Doctor Rush, can you hear me?"_

_Yes, but I don't know why._

What was going on here? How was this happening? Was it even happening at all? That was a silly question. He would have to be existing to be capable of wondering if he was existing. Whether or not he was alive was yet to be determined.

_"Continue backing off the propofol."_

Music.

That's what that sound was. He remembered music. Sweet, glossy notes that made the loneliness a little less lonely, the darkness a little less dark. It was strange, this understanding, because he'd once heard that there was music in heaven, but darkness in hell. So, where was he? Nothing about this was right. He pushed against it, grappling with a reality that didn't make sense, trying so hard to reach out into the void and grasp some shred of not even logic, but simple sanity. 

What he grasped instead was a hand.

The darkness was less oppressive now, and it felt more…external. He could feel things. More than just emotion; he could corporeally, tactilely  _feel_  things. Weight. Pressure. Matter. Temperature ranges. Air movement. He became acquainted with his physical body again, and he located his eyelids for the first time. They were closed. Slowly, he opened them.

His environment was not what he expected at all. White walls. A ceiling. A door. There was a soft bed beneath his back, a warm blanket over his body, and sunlight – real sunlight – streaming in through a window somewhere to his left. This wasn't heaven or hell. This wasn't even the infirmary on  _Destiny_. This was a hospital, probably on Earth. And there were faces around him, faces he didn't know, smiling, nodding, chattering.

He saw white institutional coats.  

Clipboards.

Wires and tubes.

A badge that read, "Brightman". 

"What is going on?!" he shouted. Or, he tried to. He discovered that he was intubated, with something hard wrapped around his face and a needle in his arm. He choked on his panic, and the faces all began talking at once, fading in and out before his eyes, circling above him like birds over prey. The voices drowned out the music.

There were hands on him. Restraining him. He was fighting to get up, out of instinct and confusion more than anything else, but it seemed that his body was misinterpreting the wild signals his brain was sending, and one arm flailed freakishly while the other lay dead still. Amidst the mayhem he noticed a strange thing: his iPod was in its dock on the bench under the window. He fixed on that sight, looking to it as if to a monolith, knowing it was important but not comprehending why. Then a firm grip pinned him to the bed, and he felt his body grow heavy. They were drugging him.

They moved around the room and around his bed, checking vital signs and equipment, making notes, prattling to each other. He tried to follow their movement and the conversations, but to his hazy mind they were just ghosts, and the words were just noise. He didn't think they sounded too concerned. That was probably good. The room dimmed and came into focus again and again while he sailed adrift in the waters of half-consciousness, trying to get his feet on some solid ground only to find nothing there. He was slipping.  _No, no, no, stay awake, what's happening, tell me what's going on..._ And things went black again.

The next time he woke up, it was night, and he was alone. At first he felt the familiar rush of alarm and dislocation, but while he was more mentally alert this time, whatever drugs he'd been given must have still been in his system. He couldn't move. And for that he was thankful. He needed to think, or whatever it was one did with a broken mind, and he couldn't do that if an emotional crisis was overriding his reason. Trying to get out of bed was a bad idea, he decided, and he would probably just hurt himself in the process. No, he needed to approach this logically. He needed time to adjust. To wrap his head around the fact that he was, apparently, actually alive. This was no out of body experience, no existential phenomenon. This was life. Consciousness.

This was...unforeseen.

He remembered dying. On the ship. He was so sick, and so weak, and his whole body had started breaking down, and Lieutenant Johansen had given him that sedative, and everything disappeared. It had all gone as anticipated. The possibility of this was so remote that he hadn't even considered it a possibility at all, and he found it staggering to the point of lunacy. He wasn't even sure how he felt about it yet.

He wondered what his condition really was now. He felt himself shaking even though he wasn't cold. Was he healing? Had they discovered a cure? Or was he still sick, had the sedative failed, and had he awoken just in time to learn that the end was still coming, and there was still nothing they could do to stop it? He felt unexpectedly lonely, and this line of thinking had him wishing that he hadn't woken up at all. If he was going to die anyway, he would rather not be conscious for it. It was a battle just to keep his eyes open. Where  _was_  everybody? Where was _he_? With absolutely no point of reference, everything and everyone he ever knew felt so distant right now, so wholly out of reach, worse than when he'd actually been on the ship, and the only thing he wanted was a familiar face.

Then he remembered his iPod.

And he realized he wasn't alone. They'd been here. Maybe that meant they'd be back.

He felt vaguely like he wanted to cry, but he wasn't sure if that was the relief or the drugs or the shock to his system or what, and all of his strength was concentrated on staying awake. His heart settled a bit, which really didn't help his grip on consciousness, and soon his eyes fell shut, and the battle was lost.

The third time, it was a little easier. He was reluctant to get used to the idea that this was going to be a normal thing, waking up, but really, it was nice. He kept his eyes closed and spent a long time just breathing. He no longer had the tube down his throat, and he knew that was good, even if he couldn't recall when it had actually been removed. He felt stronger today, which was to say he didn't think he was going to spontaneously pass out at any given moment.

After confirming that he really was breathing under his own power, he took a chance and began to test his body. He could feel the crinkly hospital bedspread under his hands. Curling his fingers, he gripped the sheet. Success.

His feet were next. He moved them side to side and felt the sheet rustle against the tips of his toes. This really was something! He flexed and bent at the ankles, then curled and uncurled his toes.

It took him a minute to realize that he was only moving his left side. Still paralyzed? Panic tried to rise, but he forced it down. Baby steps, he told himself. One thing at a time.

Satisfied he had  _some_  mobility, he took a chance and opened his eyes. He was still in the hospital but apparently in a different room. It was morning, judging by the position of the sun. That was an absurd observation, he realized, because he really had no idea where the sun actually was in relation to his window. He just felt like it was probably early. So, morning it was.

There was only one face this time. Colonel Everett Young, who was staring at him very, very attentively.

"Rush," said Young, in a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter reality. Nick wasn't sure he was too far off there.

Nick tried to speak. The sound came out scratchy, not human at all, and it hurt his raw throat. He swallowed hard but didn't try again. Didn't matter. Young looked enormously pleased.

"You have no idea how glad I am to see you," the colonel said.

Nick didn't think he'd ever been quite so glad to be seen. He still didn't get what was going on, and he knew it would be a long time before he did, but seeing the colonel was a comfort of its own. He licked his lips and tried to communicate his disorientation through his facial expressions.

"Look," said Young, "I know this is a lot to take in. I'm not sure how aware you are right now, or if you even understand anything I'm saying. I know you have questions, or you will soon, but trust me, there will be time for that. You're going to be okay. We'll just take it slow, all right? For now, just relax."

All of that sounded very promising, and Nick had become accustomed to following orders from Young. He allowed himself to ease under that consolation, closed his eyes, and just  _breathed_. Air in, air out. It was calming.

He probably fell asleep. When he woke up again, Young was still at his side, this time with a book in his hands. He was instantly alert the moment Nick opened his eyes as if he had set off some kind of alarm.

Young put the book down. "Hey. You with me?"

"Ysss," Nick said. That was an improvement, anyway. But his throat was still sore.

Young just nodded. "Okay. Here's what we can do. You don't need to talk out loud for now, okay? Just shake your head or nod or something. Do you understand?"

 _Do you understand?_  That sounded familiar. There was a memory there, and he tried to chase it down. The roles had been reversed, where Nick had asked Young that very question. What was it? What was he trying to explain? And what did water have to do with it?

"Rush?"

He blinked. Then again. He was confused. Apparently, so was Young.

"Okay, we'll try that again. Just shake and nod your head. Understand?"

Oh, how fun it would be to mess with this man's mind right now. All he would have to do is shake his head, and then Young would get that hilarious look he always got when he felt like he was being baited. But Nick wasn't in the mood for practical jokes at the moment, so he obediently nodded one time. Young actually smiled.

"All right. Good. Very good. Now we play Twenty Questions. Just close your eyes when you're ready to stop and we'll stop, okay?"

He nodded once.

"All right. I'll go first. Do you know where you are?"

Nick stared at him. There were many possible answers to that question, and he wasn't sure if any of them were right.

"Right, too broad," Young realized. "Okay, well, I'll tell you. You're on Earth."

Aha!

"In a hospital."

Called it!

"In Glasgow."

Saw that one comi-

WAIT. What? Glasgow? As in, Scotland? As in, home? His mind stopped all processes then and there. He could only stare at the colonel, not blinking, and now he wasn't sure he remembered how to breathe anymore.

Young just nodded at him. "I know, it's a shock. That's okay. But it's true. Listen, a lot happened after we said goodbye. I can't tell you all of it right now, but we'll work up to it. Want to keep going?"

Nick shook his head with more energy than he thought he had. Of all the places he could have been, Glasgow was not a possibility he had considered. His fragile mind gave up the game, and he fell asleep again.

He was getting the hang of this whole waking-up thing. Realize you're alive, remember to breathe, open your eyes. Each time it was easier.

Young was still there. Or perhaps he was there again. He really had no sense of time at this point. How long had he been here? What had happened to  _Destiny_? Where was the crew?

"You good?" Young asked him.

"Yee…esss," Nick said with effort. It hurt less this time. He was healing. That was good. He reaffirmed his answer with a nod. "Yes."

Young smiled. "Great. The doctors say you're stabilizing, so it won't be too much longer until you can get out of here."

Nick tried to push himself up before remembering he couldn't move half of his body. His left arm moved him too fast, and without his right arm to balance him, he almost went over the edge. Young grabbed for him like lightning and kept him on the bed.

"Hey, take it easy," said the colonel. "Don't overdo it. Slow, remember?"

Nick never was one for taking things slow. He had no patience for processes. He wanted final results. He didn't want to  _heal_ , he wanted to  _be healed._  Who were these doctors who couldn't seem to get him back to himself in…however long he'd been here? Nevertheless, he allowed the colonel to settle him back and fix the blankets. He touched his face, fingering a small, thin wire taped there. He knew that was probably a feeding tube. This was weird.

"I'm sure you're wondering about the crew," Young said. "I want to let you know that everyone's okay."

A heaviness was lifted from his chest. Suddenly, breathing was much easier. "Eli?"

"He's good," the colonel said. "His mom is doing just fine now that her boy is back home. He slept for two whole days when he got there, and he's eating cookies as fast as she can bake them, I'm told. But all things considered, he's fine."

Nick allowed a small smile. "Tamara?"

"She's good too. Her family went completely nuts when they saw her."

That made him unspeakably happy. He just nodded, unable to say anything, barely able to breathe.

"Chloe is fine too," Young said softly, without waiting for Nick to ask. "She spent a long time with her mother at first, and she's adjusting to life on Earth again."

That brought up a bunch of new questions, and he wanted to ask them all -  _Where are they? Why aren't they here? How long have we been back?_  - but his eyes and throat were burning. Something was moving within him, and he was starting to feel sick.

"I'm good too, thanks for asking," Young added, an amused smile at the corners of his lips. Nick smiled too, as much as he could manage. He wanted to laugh, cry, and throw up all at the same time.

So, that's what he did.

Young serenely held the basin and rubbed a hand between Nick's shoulders. Nick was momentarily lost in a maze of complete logical and emotional chaos, choking, sobbing, laughing, coughing, spitting, and then starting over. It was all hitting him at once and for a moment he didn't know what was real and what wasn't. The pounding in his head was real, and the wrenching in his stomach was real, but those had been his constant companions ever since he first got sick, and right now he wasn't sure if he'd ever even left the ship. For all he knew these moments of relief had all been a dream and he was still back there, waiting to die. He concentrated on the solidity of Young's hand on his back and tried to draw strength from it. At any other time it would have made him uncomfortable, but today it was grounding. It helped bring him, gradually, back to himself, and when the mania passed and he managed to settle enough to breathe normally again, the truth remained with him, firm and gentle.

Everyone had made it home, and somehow he was here to see it.

"Maybe that's enough for now," Young suggested wisely when it was over.

Nick settled back with what was meant to be a nod. He closed his eyes against the room spiraling around him, and he was asleep again before he even realized it.

The next day - or the next time he was conscious, whichever - the colonel returned to the room with the announcement that he had a surprise. Nick had always found surprises underwhelming, if not a complete waste of time, and to be honest he'd been given so many shocks recently that he wasn't sure if anything could really faze him anymore, but this one left him with his tongue in knots.

His friends filed in.

Chloe got to him first. She ran to his side with a tearful grin, squealing his name, throwing her arms around his neck and physically hauling him upright. She openly sobbed when he wrapped his good arm around her back and kissed her hair, and she rocked him as one would a child, weeping, cuddling him so close he could feel her heart thudding in his own chest. He wished he could hold her as tightly as he intended, but his strength was only a small fraction of what it once was. But her grip seemed to make up for it.

Eli hovered eagerly right behind her. He was shaking, as if he were experiencing some kind of emotional overload that he could barely contain, grinning, wringing his hands, impatiently shuffling from foot to foot. Nick nodded to him.

"Eli."

Impossibly, the grin got wider. "Doctor Rush."

Over Eli's shoulder Nick saw Tamara standing with Young by his feet. Both of her hands were folded in front of her face, but in her tear-filled eyes he could see the smile. She kept sniffing, letting out little laughs, scrubbing her face. The last time they had all come together like this, he was dying. How poetic that this time he was coming back to life.

"Okay, seriously," Eli said to Chloe, reaching down to pull her off. She stubbornly held on, and Eli scurried around to the other side. Uninvited, but not unwelcome, he shoved his arm into the tangle of limbs and laid claim to Nick's neck.

Nick wasn't sure whether to laugh or shove them both away. It was a little overwhelming. And by a little, he meant a lot. He only had one working arm, and while he was reluctant to take it from Chloe, he didn't want to give Eli cause to feel snubbed. Chloe whined when his warmth was removed.

"Hey," she said.

"You're hogging him," Eli snipped.

Nick snorted, and Young laughed out loud. When he felt Eli had been sufficiently hugged, he let them both go and settled backward against the mattress. "Up?" he said. Eli reached down and pressed the button that would raise the back of the bed. Tamara took that chance to come to his side, hold his face in her hands, and kiss his forehead, before bundling him in her arms the way she'd done after his heart had stopped.

"Welcome back, Doctor Rush."

He smiled a little more than he could control and made a point to hold her back. "Thank you, Lieutenant Johansen."

She pulled back and wiped her face again. "How do you feel?"

He thought that was funny. So long off the  _Destiny_ , and she was still acting like his medic. He supposed she always would be. "Confused, for one," he said. "Anyone care to explain?"

They all looked to Young. Young said, "You know what I told you on Tuesday."

"I brought some of my mom's cookies," Eli spouted excitedly. Nick nodded, already distracted by what the colonel had said. Tuesday meant nothing to him because he didn't even know what today was.

Young smiled. "I bet you've got a lot of questions. Ask away."

Where to start? There was so much he didn't know, so much he needed explained. He would start small. Easy. "How long?"

Eli answered that. "We've been on Earth for seven weeks. It's been over twelve since you…fell asleep."

Three months. He'd lost nearly three months. That alone was a lot to process. "Where is  _Destiny_?"

Young raised his eyebrows and shrugged. "Right where we left her."

Nick frowned. "For seven weeks?"

"Yep. The funding hasn't come through for the next team."

Uh-oh. "Telford…?"

"…Is waiting patiently for his turn." The smile went a little lopsided.

Nick nodded. He hesitated for his next inquiry, but knew it wouldn't do to put it off. He really needed to know, to prepare himself if nothing else. "What about the inquest?"

Young deferred to Chloe, who grinned sheepishly. "You don't need to worry about that anymore. Strom won't bother you."

Nick looked at her. "What's that mean?"

She put a gentle hand on his shoulder, leaning over to kiss his temple. "I learned a lot from my father," she explained. "Strom understands politics. Eli's calculations so far haven't proved either way whether you could have safely dialed anywhere else from Icarus. Strom had a first-class fit after T.J. gave you the sedative and wanted to have her court-martialed, but General O'Neill overruled that, thankfully. When he found out you were going to make it back home, he pretty much demanded that the inquest proceed in spite of the lack of evidence, so I threatened to have your lawyer take him to court for barratry if he didn't leave you alone. My mother also stepped in and said she would agree not to sue if they dropped the whole thing - or else she would make good on her promise to go public."

"They've already got their hands full with the wrath of the Franklins," Young added.

Nick looked over to Eli, who shrugged.

"I'm just following the evidence."

"They can't prove you did anything wrong, Nick," Chloe said. "And unless and until they can, there is no reason for them to push this any farther."

That didn't sound right. "So that's it? It's just over?"

She shrugged. "Well, it took awhile for it to  _be_  over. You just slept through it all."

True.

"Plus, there may have been some blackmail involved," she said, looking smug. "Eli made good use of those kinos. Strom and Williams didn't make very good impressions while they were on the ship."

He remembered Williams clearly. He remembered wanting to stab him with a pencil for putting his hands on Tamara.

Eli spoke up, "And their credibility isn't so good now that I was able to prove beyond a doubt that their little 'Rescue Plan' would have definitely blown up the ship."

Nick slid his eyes over to the colonel. "I wasn't aware that was in question." The colonel said nothing, just shrugging. After a beat Nick decided that it didn't really matter, and indeed, it appeared to be to their advantage that Eli had investigated it. He was rather stunned by how tenaciously these people had fought for him, and he found a vindictive triumph in the thought of Williams and Strom slinking off somewhere to lick their wounds. He cleared his throat. "Good riddance, then. What about O'Neill?"

"Retiring," Young said. "He's got one year left, but then he's done with this crap. He wanted to talk to you personally, but he's been unavailable."

Nick nodded. He wasn't sure what to say to that. He looked around and swallowed. "Why Glasgow?"

Young looked at Tamara. She smiled.

"It's summer," she said softly. "We thought it would be a nice thing to wake up to."

It was indeed. He dropped his eyes, smiling, nodding. Taking a breath, he realized he could no longer put off asking the really big question, the one that was clawing to come out. Quietly to his lap, almost afraid that lifting his eyes would make it all disappear, he asked, "How am I here?"

And just like that, the air shifted. He felt it instantly. Now he did look up. Gone were the smiles, the laughing eyes, the uncontrollable glee. In their place were now uncertainty and fear and anxiety. Rewind, go back, he didn't like this air.

"Could you guys excuse us?" Young said. That didn't sound good. The rest of them left and closed the door behind them, and Young sat in the chair by his side. Nick had to fight the instinct to flinch away.

"What?"

The colonel sighed. "We've answered a bunch of your questions already. It's time for you to answer one of ours."

That  _really_  didn't sound good. "Okay…"

Young looked him full in the face. "We found the stolen vaccine."

—

Watching Rush's face change was always fascinating. It was the eyes - they were easier to look at head-on, but from the side they took on a different presence. Something subtle. Slippery. And inexplicably…reptilian. It astounded Everett every time to imagine how fast the man must be thinking in order to anticipate what someone was about to say and be able to exactly reproduce the expected response even when he didn't feel it. He was watching that change now. Rush's eyes sharpened from confusion to suspicious curiosity. As if he didn't already know.

"That's not a question," Rush pointed out. How he could come back from the dead and immediately be a sarcastic idiot was mind-boggling.

"You don't sound very surprised, Rush."

Rush shrugged. "Well, it had to be somewhere." Then he hesitated. "But do you mind telling me where?"

It almost hurt to say it out loud. "In your quarters."

And it had been the worst day of Everett's entire life. When Eli came running hysterically into the infirmary with the little glass bottle clenched in his fist, his face red and his mouth moving a hundred miles a minute, it was a time of celebration. They'd gotten their miracle, the big thing they were waiting for. There was hope. There was time. They gave Rush the vaccine immediately and prayed.

It was a full hour before they were able to thoroughly comprehend the magnitude of what it meant. And then all of a sudden Everett was the one everyone was going to with their questions, seeking meaning in the madness, an account for the why and how of it all, like _he_ was the one who should know Rush well enough to excuse it all away. But he had no answers. His own turmoil was reflected in all of their faces, and each one of them had left him with the same look of unmoored hopelessness that had settled into his own chest. They'd been living in agony ever since, desperate for an explanation, afraid they'd never get it. They agreed that not knowing would be worse than knowing, even if the truth was what they feared most.

Rush's face changed again. Now he did look surprised. Shocked, even. "What?"

Everett leaned forward on his elbows and lowered his voice. "Listen, Rush. I don't know how your brain works, even after all this time. I've come to terms with knowing that I never will, and especially now that it's on the fritz ever since you got sick. But I'm going to ask you a question, and I want a straight answer. Yes or no. Understand?"

Rush stared at him, gradually sinking into a glare. "Yes," he said icily.

"I expect honesty. I demand it. We deserve it. And whatever you say, I'll believe you. All right?"

Rush looked like he doubted that very much, but he gave his head a jerky sort of nod.

Everett asked his question very slowly and very clearly: "Did you steal the vial yourself?"

Rush snorted, looking offended at the very idea. "If I did, do you think I would be stupid enough to leave it in my quarters?"

Everett felt his temper spike instantly, and for a moment they were back on the ship, tangled in one of their inane arguments, wills clashing, egos colliding. The part of him that wasn't immediately cursing appreciated the familiarity. If he weren't so happy Rush was alive, he'd kill him.

"What did I  _just_  say?" he demanded, slamming his hand against the armrest of his chair. "Why can't I just  _once_  get a simple yes or no? It's really not that much to ask!"

"Well, it's a stupid question!" Rush shot back. "You think I _planned_ all this?"

"I'm really hoping you didn't, but I'm still not hearing an answer! I don't know what to think, Rush, and that's why I need you to tell me!"

Rush held up his hands. "All right! All right."

Everett shook his head and swore again. It felt so good to yell at Rush. Not that he enjoyed yelling, but when Rush felt like himself enough to piss someone off, it was a good day. "Just  _tell_  me."

Rush stared hard at him. "No."

Everett squinted at him.

Rush said it again. "No. I didn't."

They watched each other, holding the gaze. Finally, Everett nodded. "There. That was easy, wasn't it?"

Rush either laughed or coughed. It was hard to tell which.

"So, you didn't take it," Everett reiterated.

"No."

"You didn't know it was right there, on your desk."

Even that seemed to perplex him. " _No_."

Everett nodded. "All right. I believe you."

Rush gave a scoff. "No, you don't."

"Yes," he argued, "I do. Because I'm choosing to trust you, and trust that after all this time you wouldn't still be a lying, manipulative fool who can't understand that there are people in his life who  _care_  about him. Do I have a reason not to believe you, Rush?"

Rush stared at him, shaking his head.

Everett shrugged. "There. It's settled. All we can assume, then, is that whoever  _did_  steal it never used it, and in a moment of conscience and cowardice decided to give it back to you in secret. Too bad you spent all that time in the infirmary. We would have found it sooner." Everett stood from his chair and moved for the door, stalling when Rush spoke again.

"And then what?"

Everett turned to him.

"What happened after? I'm still lacking some rather important details."

Everett sat again. "Well, it was touch and go for a long time," he explained. "You survived for a full day after T.J. gave you the sedative, and in that time we found the vaccine. T.J. honestly thought it was probably too late by then to do any good but we gave it to you anyway. When you weren't dead by the third day, we put you in stasis for the rest of the trip home. It was a gamble, but apparently these stasis pods  _do_  suspend the metabolic process, contrary to what you told Eli."

Rush didn't react. His blink was blank.

"Once we got back to Earth," Everett continued, "we made sure there were specialists standing by ready to take you into surgery and whatever else you needed. Don't ask me what all they did for you, because I haven't got a clue. I just know they kept you drugged up for a long time. We weren't even sure you were going to make it until a month ago when you woke up the first time. Once we got the clearance we had you transferred here. It's been almost two weeks."

Rush turned his eyes to the wall, taking it all in. He kept looking like he wanted to speak, even drawing in a breath to say it, before letting it out again without a word. After a long silence he got a little frown and looked back at Everett. "You went through an awful lot of trouble."

He snorted. "Don't sound so surprised."

"And you've all been here this whole time?"

He shrugged mildly. "T.J. wanted to see the Highlands."

"Why?"

"She heard they were beautiful."

Rush shook his head, blinking dizzily, touching his fingers to his forehead. "No, I mean why…did you...?"

Everett rolled his eyes. For all that genius, sometimes this man was as dense as a steel door. "Because we're  _family_ , Rush. Okay?" He got up and went for the exit again.

"Who found it?" Rush asked.

Everett said, "Eli. When he was boxing up your stuff."

Rush nodded, and Everett thought he could see a smile starting to form. He opened the door, gave a thumbs-up to the others waiting, and allowed them to come back in. They flocked to Rush and sat around him, T.J. on the bed by his feet, Eli in the chair beside him, Chloe on the bench under the window. Everett remained standing by the wall.

"You missed all the fun," Eli announced. "The welcome home party was legendary! I think I was hungover for two days, and it wasn't even Brody's fault this time."

Rush shook his head, looking amused. "Shame I missed it."

"Yeah. It was awesome. We needed something like that. Can you believe they wouldn't even let us see our families until after we were debriefed? It took us a week to figure out how to actually dial Earth once we got to the Icarus planet, and then once we crossed through the gate, there were all these marines and stuff waiting with guns! Like, what was that about?"

"Purely a safety precaution," Everett told him, for the eighth time.

"Pffft. Like a bunch of clumsy, half-starved refugees who couldn't even walk with Earth's gravity would pose a threat."

Everett remembered the giant heap of squirming, bumbling people lying on the gate ramp. He hadn't realized the gravity on _Destiny_ was so different until they left it. 

"At least we made them laugh," Chloe chimed in.

"Yeah, that helped defuse to hostility, I'm sure," Eli groused. "They picked us up and threw us in a van and off we went to D.C.! A week of debrief, decon, physical exams, psych evals, and not one visit from my mom! It was like prison!"

"Have you ever been to prison?" Everett asked. 

"Of course not."

"Then relax."

Eli grinned at him.

Rush had a strange look on his face. His eyes were down and to the left, his forehead gently creased. He seemed to be following some thought that he couldn't quite track down.

"Rush?"

Everyone looked at Rush, and Rush looked at him. "Debrief?" he said, as if it had occurred to him for the first time.

Everett nodded his head. "They'll want to talk to you too. They'll be sending someone out in the next day or so."

Rush looked nervous. His working fingers curled around the sheet. "And what?"

"No legal action," Everett promised. "They said that they would only question you about the things that happened once we were already on board. And they agreed to allow someone else to be present for...support."

Rush raised an eyebrow. "You, I assume?"

He shrugged. "That's up to you."

Rush just nodded and rubbed a hand over his eyes. He was starting to look tired again.

"Need us to leave?" Everett asked.

Rush shrugged with a shake of his head. "That's up to you."

Or, in Rush-speak, _"I don't want you to go but I don't want to ask you to stay."_

They didn't leave. The next several hours were a blur of more hugging, some crying, and non-stop chattering before a nurse finally had to kick them out.

—

The debrief went better than anyone expected. SGU sent General O'Neill, of all people, who was the best of all possibilities, and the time was spent feeling less like a military interrogation and more like a business meeting over lunch. He arrived with a piece of cake saved from the homecoming party Nick missed -- "It's still good, we kept it in the freezer" -- and seemed very impressed with Scotland in general before finally sitting in the chair with a laptop and a notebook and settling in for a very long story. As promised, O'Neill sidestepped the sensitive subjects relating to the arrival on _Destiny_ , the fate of Doctor Franklin, and even Riley's death. Nick lost his train of thought on numerous occasions, even forgetting significant events entirely, forcing Young to step in and fill in the gaps. It was disheartening to know that his mind was still defective, but O'Neill took it all in stride. 

Nick was released from the hospital a week later. He spent months in physical therapy recovering atrophied muscle strength, regaining function in his crippled limbs, and teaching himself to make good use of his non-dominant left hand. At Chloe's insistence, he returned to California with her and Matthew Scott when the autumn came. By the end of the first year, he could hold a pencil again.

His mind and brain would probably never fully recover. He continued to have headaches, perpetual numbness, partial paralysis, chronic pain, memory loss, fits of rage, and depression. He couldn't work, but SGU generously - or, at least, dutifully - reversed his termination and allowed him to take a medical retirement. He couldn't go back to teaching. His mind was too unpredictable for that.

He spent some time writing about his experience on  _Destiny._ It was for his own sake, really, and when he finished in English, he wrote it again in Ancient. He was having trouble keeping his languages straight, and he wanted to be able to hold on to that much, at least. He was in constant communication with Eli, Tamara, and Young. Even Greer dropped a postcard now and then.

Two years after Nick woke up, they had a reunion. They all met up in San Francisco.

"Finally got an offer," Eli announced over a picnic spread. Corporal Barnes-Wallace grinned at his side, cradling their baby son. "You're looking at the producer of the future Academy Award-winning film  _The Destiny of All Things_."

He looked so proud of himself, sliding his hands through the air as if smoothing an imaginary sign, as everyone applauded and whistled. Nick couldn't contain a snort.

Eli looked over at him, scowling. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. I'm sure it'll be an enormous success." Eli looked not quite sure if he believed him. He just smirked. "I guess those kinos really did come in handy after all."

"Uh, yeah!" Eli said. "My documentary was awesome. You'd know, if you ever watched it, and they-"

"I did watch it."

Eli blinked, looking surprised. "Really?"

"Really."

Eli raised his eyebrows archly. "And it was spectacular, wasn't it?"

Nick had to nod. "Yes, Eli, it was. A true work of art."

The grin that followed was its own reward. Eli continued babbling on, and Nick just tuned him out as he looked around at where he was and who was with him. Colonel Young – he'd always be "Colonel", even since resigning from SGC – was sitting on the other side of the picnic table looking as happy as Nick had ever seen him. But there was an anguish there also, hidden deep within where only those, like Nick, who had felt it before could see it. It was Tamara, seated on his left. Her illness was presenting already. You could see it in the way she kept massaging her wrist. A jewel gleamed on her left hand, and she was due in two months. Nicholas didn't think it was prudent to have a child when she knew she was going to leave it motherless, but he held his peace. Any joy one could find in this life was worth having.

Greer and Park sat beside Tamara while their son Dale ran circles around the table. The kid was brilliant, pure kinetic energy, and just as obnoxious as his namesake. Lisa never did regain her sight, but Greer had filled the role of doting husband marvelously and she didn't even seem to miss it.

Chloe and Matthew sat beside them, with little Alan Everett Scott in the middle. The boy had his mother's blue eyes, his father's silly smile, and his surrogate uncle's awkwardness. And for some reason, Nick was the object of his unwavering fascination. Wherever he went, so went Alan. He would often feel eyes on him throughout the day, and he would turn around to find the boy right there every time, totally engrossed in whatever Nick happened to be doing at the moment, watching intently, not blinking. Nick had yet to win a staring contest against him. Right now, Alan was noshing on a strawberry, grinning across the table at him.

It was a sunny day. Early summer, the kind Gloria loved. Nick reached into his pocket and touched the picture he kept there, the picture he always carried with him wherever he went. Even if he forgot everything else, he wouldn't forget her.

He had been thinking less and less about  _Destiny_  as time went on. Whether that was because it was becoming less important to him or because his mind was still faulty, he didn't know. But it was actually a relief to find joy in something simple again, like a well-kept garden, or a masterful piece of violin music. Something that didn't cause him fear and pain with every encounter because it reminded him of something he no longer had. He was making new memories.

Back at home that night, Nick did what he enjoyed doing the most - he sat on the porch swing and stared at the stars. He wondered where the ship was, way out there. The lawsuit from Doctor Franklin's family had drained much of the funding for Telford's team, postponing their deployment by a full eighteen months. When it was finally time to ship out, Telford had taken to the command like a fish to water, and McKay and Williams were half-crazy with excitement. It was shocking, really, given what Nick's future self had said about the situation. All Telford had wanted was to abandon the mission and get everyone home. Perhaps it was because he was anxious to get the "right people" on board. Nick hadn't been there for the departure; it was too difficult knowing these people would be walking around his ship, his _Destiny_ , without him, while he had no hope of ever seeing her again. He hadn't even gotten to say goodbye. He now wondered what the team had seen so far, what they'd done, if they'd met any other intelligent alien races, found any incredible worlds to explore.

If anyone had died.

He tried not to think too far in that direction; the memories were still too much. Some things he wished he could remember. Others, he longed to forget.

It was so quiet. Just him and a nice salty breeze, the gentle kind that told you summer was just waking up. He had always enjoyed the weather here, but now it was truly a blessing. The damage to his nerves had left him unable to tolerate heat or cold, and he needed to be in a place without radical temperature variations. The Bay Area was nearly perfect all the time. From where he sat he could just see the glowing tethers of the Bay Bridge, and Berkeley just a short jump across. He still had not rallied the courage to go there yet, unwilling to be seen by his former colleagues in this condition. He doubted he ever would. Constance, however, visited often.

He liked coming out here after dark, where he could have peace and time to think. About life. About the universe. About everything.

"Forty-two," came Chloe's voice behind him, followed by the creaking of the front screen door.

He turned to her. "Huh?"

She shook her head. "Oh, Matt was just asking how many payments are left on the car." She sat next to him and rested her head on his shoulder. She always remembered to sit on his left side, since his right was so weak. "Hi."

He put his arm around her. "Hello."

"Doing okay?"

He nodded. "Yep. You?"

"Mm-hmm. It was good to see Eli and the gang."

"Yeah, it was."

"I miss all of them. I wish they lived closer. Although Eli said they might be moving to Hollywood for his movie. That'll be closer than D.C."

"By car or by plane?"

She smiled. "Both."

"Ah."

"And T.J. said she always wanted to live near the water. I hope they can come out here now that she's starting to get sicker."

He didn't answer. The thought of losing Tamara still pained him, especially after how kind she had been while he was ill.

The briny air moved again, ringing a set of wind chimes hanging from the eaves. They were made of scrap metal from the ship, a thoughtful parting gift from Brody. Chloe caught Nick staring at them and sighed.

"Do you miss  _Destiny_?"

He shrugged. "I'll always miss  _Destiny_."

"Me too."

He used his good foot to push the swing gently back and forth. "Really?"

"Of course. Do you remember what I told you the day Matt and I got engaged? I'm remembering the good things."

He nodded. "I do remember."

"I meant that."

"I know."

He could feel her breathing. It was soporific, and he reclined his head to rest on the back of the swing, just breathing right along with her. When she spoke again, her voice was soft and unsure. "So…Colonel Young said you told him you didn't know the vaccine was in your quarters."

Well. Finally. It had taken her a lot longer than he expected to bring it up, but he had always known she wouldn't be able to leave it alone forever. He sat a little straighter. "I didn't," he said. She didn't answer, and he asked, "Is there a question in there?"

She hesitated too long before shaking her head against him. "No. I was just going to say that if you did, I wish you would tell me why."

"Hmm," he said noncommittally.

"But I guess it doesn't matter," she went on after a beat, "if you really didn't know."

"I really didn't know."

"Then it really doesn't matter." Another pause, and he knew she wasn't done. The chimes jangled again. "But if you did know" - there it was - "what would your reason have been?"

He sighed. He knew where this was going, and he felt his heart sink. He wanted to rub his forehead but she was lying on his arm. "Hypothetically?"

"Hypothetically."

"Speculatively?"

"Completely."

"A wild guess?"

"The wildest one you can make."

He cleared his throat. "Well,  _if_  I had been the one who stole the vaccine, and  _if_  I knew it was there and didn't tell any of you, and  _if_  it had all been a convoluted plan to orchestrate my own death and make it seem like a sacrifice, then I guess I would have to say…" He paused to choose his words. And maybe to stall. "I didn't want to be left behind again."

She sat up and shook her head. "Nick, we've talked about this…"

"You asked."

She stared at him, looking like she regretted that fact very much. Then she sighed and nodded. "Okay. Okay. So, why don't you explain this, then? Help me understand."

He shrugged. "Not much left to explain."

"There always is. Come on, Nick. We've opened the door, let's just walk through it. Keep going."

He watched her, feeling himself wearing down under her steady, coaxing gaze. He sighed and closed his eyes, steeling himself. "I've been alone a lot in my life, Chloe," he told her. "Some of it was my fault. Some of it was even my choice. But have you ever watched someone walk away, and wonder how they could ever leave you?"

She looked instantly sad, and somehow he knew what she was going to say before she said it. "Yeah. The day my father went into that shuttle. And the day I found out you were dying."

He cringed, guilt prickling. "I know what that's like."

"You mean like when Colonel Young left you on the planet?"

He hadn't even been thinking about that, honestly. He still nodded. "Well, yeah, there's that. But there was something else. Someone else." He turned his head just a little toward her, not actually sure why he was saying all of this. "My wife left me too."

And Chloe frowned and blinked, looking confused. "Wait, huh? I thought you told me she died."

He nodded. "She did die. But the truth is, she didn't have to. She just didn't want to go through treatment again."

Chloe appeared momentarily stricken, then made an undefinable noise and hesitantly took his hand. "Oh, wow. I...I didn't know that." She paused and seemed to be faltering for words. "Wow. But...you know, Nick, I'm sure she had her reasons."

He knew she was just trying to help. It didn't help. "Yeah, she did. And I'm sure they were very good reasons. And I told her I supported her decision, but...I didn't, really. I didn't understand. I still don't." He couldn't bear the look Chloe was giving him. He stared at the stars instead. "I know it sounds selfish, but I didn't understand why she would just give up. How she could  _choose_  not to stay. With me. And every time I looked at her, I wondered when I stopped being enough."

Chloe squeezed his hand. "I'm...sure it wasn't like that…" She trailed off and didn't finish.

"I know she loved me," he said, looking at her again. "But the thing is, I was watching it happen all over again on _Destiny_. And if I wasn't enough to make my own wife stay, what hope did I have for the rest of you?"

Chloe's face crumpled, and she bit her lip. "Why didn't you tell me you felt this way?"

"Why would I? Would it have made a difference?"

She looked offended. "Yes! I would have tried to stay."

He shook his head. "I don't think so. You had to want it."

"I would have."

"No, you wouldn't. Not really. And nothing I said would have changed that."

"How do you know? You should have given me the chance."

"You had the chance," he reminded her. "You had the choice, and you chose to leave." He could see she was about to say something, and he continued, "I'm not blaming you, Chloe. You had your reasons too. And if that was what you wanted, then I didn't want to pressure you, or manipulate you, or guilt you into something you  _didn't_  want."

"What I didn't want was to lose  _you_ ," she said.

"Well, it's not like that stopped you."

She jerked. "That's not fair."

"The truth is seldom fair." And the unfair truth was, he lived in a world that seemed to have no place for him. He was always much, yet never enough. Good, not great. The fallback. The Plan B. Someone to be left with, not someone to choose. And all the while, all he ever wanted...was to be wanted.

She was glaring at him. "You don't think I cared enough?"

He shrugged. "I don't think you tried."

"Well, maybe I would have if you had just  _talked_  to me instead of ignoring me for a month!"

"It wouldn't have changed anything. You knew how important it was to me, but we all have our priorities."

She looked disgusted. "Wow, Nick. I knew how much you wanted to stay, but I guess I kind of thought living on Earth would be a step up from being  _dead_."

He grunted, recognizing this as one of those times when she lashed out to avoid confronting her true feelings, but he still took offense anyway. He swallowed hard, took a breath, and let it out. "You were right."

"Was I?” she challenged, but her veneer was cracking. The anger softened, replaced by pain. Her breath quaked when she spoke in spite of her stubborn efforts to control it. “You can't lie to me, Nick. I know you're not happy here. You knew you never would be.” She closed her eyes and hung her head. “But I wish you were."

"Chloe…" The hurt in her voice hurt him too. He was always making her cry, and he hated it. "I'm not  _un_ happy."

"That's not the same."

"It's a start."

She raised her teary eyes to stare at him.

He sighed. "Please don't look at me like that. I'm trying, okay? And anyway, this  _is_  all conjecture. It doesn't really matter, remember?"

Her hesitation was tangible. "It sounds an awful lot like it does."

He frowned. "Don't do that. You asked me a question, and I gave you my answer. Whether or not you believe it is not something I can control. You're going to have to start trusting me sooner or later."

She looked away, absently rubbing her arm. "I do trust you…"

She obviously did not, but he left it alone. He didn't want to fight with her anymore. "Then can we let this go? Please?"

She nodded, but the pain was still there. He didn't know how to fix it. But he was making an effort - that counted for something, right? He tugged on her arm, and she let him bring her to himself.

"I'm trying," he said again.

She squeezed his hand, running her nail along the side of his thumb. "I know."

He laid his weak hand on hers and gave her the strongest squeeze he could muster.

The hinges of the screen door squeaked, and a little voice called, "Mom?"

"C'mere, Alan," Chloe said, sniffing and rubbing her eyes. The toddler scampered over and reached up, and she pulled him onto her lap. Over her shoulder, he smiled at Nick. "It's past your bedtime, mister," Chloe said. "What are you still doing up?"

"Cream," the boy said proudly. He was still looking at Nick.

"Ah, your dad gave you ice cream, huh?"

"Yeah." It showed. Dark stains were all over his hands and his face and even in his hair.

Chloe kissed his sticky cheek. "Well, that's all for now. It's time for bed. Say goodnight."

The smile widened to a gappy-toothed grin. "Cheers, Granda'," Alan said merrily.

Nick patted the back of the child's head fondly with his good hand. "Cheers, lad."

Chloe put the boy down and sent him back inside to find his father.

Nick eyed her. "He can count by twos on his own now."

She looked delighted. Probably also relieved for something new to talk about. "That's great! I assume you'll be teaching him Ancient next?"

Nick snorted. "Well, your husband forbade that unless he learns it too. Apparently he's uncomfortable with the thought of your son and I having conversations he doesn't understand."

Chloe laughed. "He just wants to fit in." Then she looked thoughtful. "I do think it's a good idea, though. And Alan will probably pick it right up."

"Well, he's got his mother's brain."

"And his father's heart." She shifted in the swing. "And he's starting to copy your accent."

He laughed a little. Chloe pulled one foot up and sat on it, helping him swing them with the other. The wind chimes sang again. 

"Hey," Chloe said suddenly, "can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

She squeezed his hand as if to prepare him. "What was your daughter's name?"

He looked obliquely at her. "Why do you ask?"

She shrugged. "Curious. You don't have to tell me."

It didn't bother him. She'd just never asked before. "Amelia," he finally said.

She smiled approvingly. "Amelia. Amelia Rush. That's pretty."

It was pretty. "Gloria picked it. Afterwards…"

She nodded to herself. "Amelia Rush," she said again. She grinned. "Thanks for telling me."

"You're welcome."

She clung to him, resting her head on his shoulder. "Nick, for what it's worth,  _I'm_  happy you're here."

He nodded and swallowed and held her a little bit tighter. "Me too."

He knew he would really mean it someday. Maybe he already did. It was a long road ahead of him, but he had family by his side. He was going to be all right.

 

_FIN_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is very different from the ending I had in mind when I started, but the storyline evolved so much that it led me here. I hope everyone enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> I want to thank everyone who read, commented, bookmarked, followed, fave'd, kudos'd, and even so much as scrolled on past and thought, "That sounds interesting". You are my heroes. Thank you for taking the time to step into my mind and appreciate something I really care about. It means the world to me, and you're all awesome.


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